


White Flag

by LarissaFae



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Cecil's like a 5.5 on the Kinsey scale, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Genderfluid Character, Homophobia, Illustrations, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentally unstable character, POCecil, Trans Character, Weird Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 63,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarissaFae/pseuds/LarissaFae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos meets Cecil when the Junior begs him for help after failing a test. Cecil is strange and quite possibly on drugs ... or maybe it's just the wendigo.</p><p>Not all chapters are explicit, but the ones that are will be marked as such.</p><p>Updates the 15th of every month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, welcome to the start of the story. So ... Carlos meets Cecil. And his dad. And yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1-3 illustrations by [Carro](http://goddess-in-green.tumblr.com).

Carlos was going over an extra chemistry assignment he’d begged when the boy in the skirt and combat boots flopped into the chair across from him with a disgusted sigh.

" _Ugh,_ can you _believe_ that test? I _completely_ failed. My dad’s going to _kill_ me." He buried his face in his arms and continued to lament his abject failure at life in general and chemistry in particular. When Carlos continued to ignore him, he finally looked up. "Carloooooooos," he whined, "I’m _talking_ to you."

"I don’t know who you _are,_ " Carlos mumbled. The boy was staring at him.

  


Carlos _did_ know who he was. His parents had pulled him aside the day he’d transferred to the private school and told him in no uncertain terms to _never_ talk to the Native boy, who had been twirling down the hallway in bright yellow skinny jeans, a green velvet shirt that looked like it came from the seventies, and a purple tutu as the other students laughed. He hadn’t seemed to notice anyone until he’d seen Carlos, at which point he’d broken out into a huge grin and started blushing. Carlos had ignored all the notes he’d been passed or found in his locker; they were mostly just cheerful greetings, anyway. The boy did all the school’s announcements, so it was impossible to not at _least_ recognize his low, smooth voice - it had waxed poetic about Carlos since his arrival, much to the amusement of the student body and the frustration of the staff. Principal Winchell could constantly be heard yelling at the boy in the background, and he always just laughed cheerfully and moved on.

Carlos was fairly certain he was on drugs.

"Uh, I’m _Cecil,_ " the boy sighed. " _Duh._ I sit near you in chemistry? I do the morning announcements? God, that shirt looks great on you. Where did you get it?" His face lit up before Carlos could do more than stutter. "Hey, do you think you could tutor me?" He sat up excitedly, grinning. " _Please?_ I can pay you! My dad’s going to _flip_ when he sees my test, but _you're_ super smart, and if _you_ tutor me, he _might_ not feed me to the wendigo!"

Carlos was set to tell the boy no, but his normally cheerful countenance had fallen and his warm brown skin had paled. He honestly looked worried, almost downright afraid.

"… I’ll ask my parents," Carlos muttered instead. "They might not … they don’t …"

Cecil threw his head back and laughed. "They don’t want you to catch the gay!" Carlos hunched his shoulders and looked around to see if anyone had heard, but it was fairly obvious that everyone was used to Cecil’s flamboyance, and no one was paying attention to them. Cecil propped his chin in his hands and grinned as he looked Carlos over. "Don’t worry, darling. I’ll try not to infect you with my fabulousness. Unless you _want_ me to," he added with a wink. Carlos flushed hard enough that it must have showed on his dark skin and started to stutter, and Cecil stood up with another warm laugh. He pulled his long, braided black hair forward and then tossed it all behind him before dropping a piece of paper in front of Carlos. "Here’s my home number. Call me and let me know. Have a great day, beautiful. Dana!"

He trotted off, waving down the Muslim girl he hung out with most often, taking her arm and laughing with her. Carlos stared down at his extra assignment. He was suddenly unable to concentrate on the work he usually loved. Cecil was open about his crush on him, but also never really tried to get Carlos to interact with him - that had been their longest interaction to date. He was a strange boy, wandering around school in a daze, almost, a conspiracy theorist who applauded the government control and intrusion he was convinced of, who seemed to pull half of every outfit from his sister’s closet, was prone to disjointed and strange ramblings of a vaguely mystical nature, had a voice too deep for his frame, and who was absolutely stunning.

Carlos sighed and dropped his head to his chemistry book. Cecil was across the lunch room, leaning forward to let Dana braid the pale lavender streaks of hair at his forehead, one hand idly scratching the small goatee he sported. Even from where he sat, Carlos could see his large brown eyes. They were expressive and honest; lying seemed to be something that Cecil had never heard of. He didn’t give a single fuck if everyone knew he was gay, either, and Carlos wondered why he was never more than verbally harassed about it.

His father being chief of the Navajo Nation police might have had something to do with that - Mr. Palmer was a mountain of a man, over six and a half feet tall and all surly muscle. He dropped off and picked Cecil up daily in his police cruiser, with Cecil wailing cheerfully about The Man taking him in for re-education, for anyone who cared to listen. Carlos wasn’t sure why Mr. Palmer let his son regularly wear makeup and girl’s clothes to school, or why the private school allowed it. Maybe Mrs. Palmer had something to do with it, but Carlos had never seen or heard about her.

The bell rang and Carlos gathered his books with a sigh of relief as he hurried to his next class.

~~~~~

Cecil’s father’s cruiser was at the curb when Carlos got home. A sinking feeling of apprehension settled in his gut as he walked up the sidewalk, and he almost turned around and went back to Marcus’, but if he wasn’t in the house within - he checked his watch - three minutes, his parents would probably call the cops to look for him. They'd done it before. So he sighed, swallowed his anxiety, and opened the front door.

His parents were sitting on the couch across from Cecil’s father, and they were all calmly drinking coffee. Cecil was sitting cross-legged on the floor in slacks and a button-up shirt, which, considering his normal fashion sense, was startlingly out of place. Carlos figured the outfit had been his father’s idea, but Cecil had gotten around it by gleefully engaging Carlos’ younger sisters in a game of dress-up. They were fawning over his hair and covering him in makeup and nail polish. Juana was brushing his hair, Alonsa was working on his nails, and Lenora was covering his cheeks in rouge. Cecil was completely blissed out, eyes half-lidded and a grin on his face that said he was having the best time of his life. Carlos didn’t know where Anita was.

"Hey, Carlos," Juana finally said as she glanced up and saw him standing in the doorway. Cecil lit up as much as the girls did at the sight of him.

" _Carlos!_ " Alonsa and Lenora squealed, jumping up to run around him. "Come play with us! Isn’t Cecil pretty?"

" _He_ lets us play with his hair." Lenora glared up at him accusingly. He never let them touch his curly black hair. _He_ rarely touched it, if not to yank a comb through the mess.

"Uh, wow," Carlos mumbled. He knelt, hugged them both tightly, and kissed their foreheads. "That was nice of him. Did you thank him?"

" _Cecil!_ " Anita shrieked, running in as fast as her chubby three-year-old legs could carry her and waving around a tutu and a crown. "Cecil! Wear these!"

"A tutu _and_ a crown?!" Cecil breathed as he looked away from Carlos. Carlos’ parents’ smiles had chilled a bit. "I’ve never had those before! Wow! For me? Really?" He let Anita crown him and knelt in order to fasten the tutu around his narrow hips, then stood up and twirled. "Am I pretty? I told Dad you might be able to -- neat! Thank you! -- tutor me and showed him my test," Cecil explained over his shoulder. "He brought me right over. Wow! Barbies _and_ dinosaurs! Rawr!" The girls shrieked and took off running, and Cecil chased after them as he made dinosaur noises. Even Juana - almost thirteen and too cool for pretty much everything - ran off with a grin.

Carlos looked at Cecil’s father, who was watching him with what was probably a mild expression for him, but looked to Carlos like the man might kill him just to watch him die. “Uhm … hi. Sir.”

  


"This is Mr. Palmer," his father stated. "He wants you to tutor his … son." It was almost a question as Mr. Palmer stood, towering over even Carlos’ six feet of awkward sixteen-year-old height, and held his hand out. His face was lined and his eyes were as cold up close as they were from farther away, his lips seemingly permanently pursed. His grip, when they shook, was firm. It didn’t crush him like Carlos had feared and expected.

"Fifty dollars a week," he rumbled. Carlos’ eyes bugged out. "Is that enough?"

"Uhm, uh … yeah," Carlos stuttered. His mother glared. "I mean, yes. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll, uh, do my best, sir. Thank you, sir."

"They’ll study here," Carlos’ father started. Cecil and the girls ran, screaming, through the living room and Mr. Palmer merely raised an eyebrow. Carlos’ father sighed.

"The library --" Carlos started.

"Cecil needs to be home before dark," Mr. Palmer stated. "And you need to be off the reservation by then. You will study in the kitchen - Cecil will just sleep or play with his radio equipment if he does homework in his room. I’ll bring you home. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school. I believe that won’t interfere with your other extracurricular activities. You’ll start tomorrow. _Cecil._ "

He hadn’t noticeably raised his voice, but Cecil was in front of him so fast he may as well have teleported there, and stood nearly at attention.

"Yes, sir?" He was covered in glitter and wearing fairy wings.

"We’re leaving." Cecil immediately undressed and grinned at Carlos and his family.

"Thanks, guys!" he said cheerfully. "You’re all amazing and smart!" He said that to Carlos’ sisters, who clung to him and wailed. "No, no, let go. I’ll come play again soon. Uh, thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Garcia, for letting Carlos tutor me." His father grabbed his arm and pulled him out the door and almost off his feet. "I promise I won’t make him gay!" he yelled, then laughed, then yelped when his father smacked him on the back of the head. He waved and blew Carlos a kiss as they drove away.

"What did he say?" Carlos’ mother asked as he shut the front door.

"Uh … that he promises to study every day." He turned to go upstairs and his mother took his arm and turned him to look at her, her lips turned into a frown and her brows knit together. "Mom?"

"That boy, he’s …" She looked at his sisters, then pulled Carlos down nine inches to whisper in his ear, " _gay,_ Carlos."

Carlos flushed and shrugged. He’d been doing that a lot today. “Uh, maybe.”

" _Promise_ me you won’t be alone with him. Don’t let him tell you that sort of thing’s ok, Carlos. Call us if you’re left alone with him or if he tries anything. Do you hear?"

"Yeah, like anyone’s going to want _this,_ " Carlos sighed. He gestured over his body. "Mama, I’m thirty pounds overweight, _not_ popular in the slightest, and hit about seventy percent of the branches when I fell out of the ugly tree. I think I’m safe from Cecil’s advances."

His mother sighed sadly and brushed his hair out of his face before cupping his cheek. “Oh, mijo, people like that prey on unattractive people because of their low self-esteem. Be strong, Carlos. I’ll pray for you.”

" _Thanks,_ Mom," Carlos bit out before storming upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Studying, wendigo, dogs, and weirdness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1-3 illustrations by [Carro](http://goddess-in-green.tumblr.com).

  


"Carloooooooooos!" Cecil ran up to him and spun around, laughing as his long skirt flared around his legs. "Isn’t this amazing? You get to tutor me! _I_ get to be tutored by _you!_ "

Carlos, entirely unused to so much attention in any form, much less from beautiful boys who looked like they might leap into his arms and kiss him at any moment, hunched his shoulders and ducked his head. “Uh, yeah. The whole school knows. You told everyone this morning.”

"I’m just excited, you know? The smartest, handsomest guy in school, tutoring _me!_ " Carlos glared at him, but as usual, he seemed completely sincere in his belief that Carlos was the most perfect guy in school, maybe the world. There was none of the sarcasm or derision usually reserved for people Cecil hated, like that Steve kid, who rivaled Cecil in his mad conspiracy theories.

"Uh, yeah, just … It’s not a big deal. You don’t need to talk about it." Cecil stared at him, and Carlos could _see_ the fluff drifting through his brain like clouds. "If you talk about it, my parents will find out and won’t let me tutor you anymore."

 _That_ got through the fog, and Cecil’s eyes widened as they walked to his father’s waiting cruiser. “Oh. _Oh._ I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

He looked so sad that Carlos smiled. “It’s ok. Just tone it down. Good afternoon, Mr. Palmer,” he said as Cecil got in before him.

"Have a nice ride back to Mexico, you fucking wetback!" someone yelled.

Carlos rolled his eyes and covered Cecil’s mouth, which was twisted in sudden rage. “That’s _dampback,_ ” he yelled, “and _my_ people were here _long_ before _yours,_ asshole!” Cecil’s father burst into gravely laughter as Cecil stared at Carlos in shock. Carlos gave him a questioning look as he got in and buckled up. “What?”

"You … you just … Dampback?"

Mr. Palmer’s unexpected and unsettling laughter, low and dry like he hadn’t laughed in years, subsided as Carlos shrugged. “My parents hopped the border. My sisters and I were born here. They’re wetbacks, we’re dampbacks. Bullies don’t usually know how to react when I correct them.”

"… Huh." Cecil buckled himself and shrugged. "I just offer to blow them when they call me a fag."

" _Cecil._ " Mr. Palmer’s hand snapped back and caught him across the cheek. Carlos sucked in his breath in shock, but Cecil just yelped and then grinned.

"Geez, Dad, like _you've_ never gotten a blowjob." He braced for another slap, not even bothering to dodge, and grinned at Carlos like it was a game. "Ugh, fine, I promise I won’t give Carlos a blowjob until he asks."

"Shut up," Carlos muttered as his cheeks heated.

Cecil changed subjects easily, chattering on about how fun and adorable Carlos’ sisters were, how he wanted to be in radio (“You have the voice for it," Carlos conceded to Cecil’s delight), how he wanted to travel after high school, and how Carlos should never, _ever_ acknowledge the wendigo that liked to hang around Elder Josie, like seriously, don’t even _look_ at them, they are _vicious_ when they’re acknowledged.

Carlos, who had been only half-listening, blinked. “Wait, what?”

"Ignore him," Mr. Palmer stated firmly as Cecil heaved a sigh. "Shut up, boy."

  


Cecil was quiet for the rest of the ride, jumping out silently once they pulled up to his house. It was a single-wide mobile home, shabbily built but in good repair. It was a far cry from Carlos’ house, which comfortably fit his family of seven with an extra guest room. Carlos almost felt ashamed to have so much more than Cecil -- no matter how recently acquired -- and wondered if the other boy would think he was stuck up.

"If you’re not interested in men," Cecil’s father rumbled as Carlos started to get out of the car, "tell him right away. He needs to start getting over his crush as soon as possible."

Carlos had frozen, his heart pounding. “I, I’m not gay,” he stammered.

Cecil’s father didn’t look at him, just watched as Cecil ran around the back of the house, followed by a pack of what _had_ to have been wolves, laughing. “Then tell him. I don’t care who you want, boy. I care about my son getting hurt. Hurt him as little as possible.”

Carlos looked at Cecil, running like a wild thing with his dogs, and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

"Good. Come in while he does his chores. Do your chores!" he called as Cecil ran past. Cecil’s reply was lost as he tripped and was covered in hounds, and his father just sighed and went inside, Carlos on his heels. Only the change from seventies shag carpet to linoleum marked the boundary between the living and dining rooms. The kitchen was even tinier, and there was a short hallway that led, presumably, to the bedrooms and bathroom. Carlos set his backpack on the rickety table and pulled out his chemistry book and notes, feeling out of place.

"Look at this shack!" Cecil crowed as he burst through the front door fifteen minutes later. "Don’t I have a great shack?"

He was challenging Carlos to comment on his lack of money -- his cheerful aggressiveness and tense body language were the same that Juana had taken as little as three years previously. Carlos looked around and raised his eyebrows with a shrug. “We fit six of us in an apartment not even half this size before Dad got promoted. It’s roomy.”

Mr. Palmer set a glass of water on the table with a tight, approving smile while his son stared at Carlos. His mouth worked for a bit until he seemed to settle on just … _looking_ … at Carlos.

"I love you," he finally said.

"I’m not gay," Carlos blurted out, then winced.

The beautiful young man gave him a serene, almost angelic smile. “That’s ok.” Then he spun around. “I’ll be right back!”

He was out the door again and his father let out a slow, patient breath. “I have to get back to work.” He walked past Carlos, who looked at him in surprise. “The boy’s an airhead, but he respects boundaries. He’ll just flirt until you tell him to stop. But if you _do_ have sex,” and Carlos choked on his water, “use condoms. And be quiet if anyone else is here.”

Then he was gone, Carlos dumbfounded in his wake, once more smacking Cecil across the face as the boy ran back up to the house. Carlos winced and wondered if CPS had authority on tribal lands. Cecil was bright and cheerful when he came in, though, and gently grabbed Carlos’ sleeve. “Come see my room! It’s really neat!”

Carlos hesitated, staring at Cecil’s face with worry. “We need to study.” How did one subtly ask someone if their parent beat them?

Cecil waved him off. “Oh, psh, we can study later. Want to meet the puppies? What? Do I have something on my …” Cecil’s hand drifted over the red mark on his cheek and Carlos’ lips tightened. His smile faded. “… Oh. It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Then he grinned and stepped closer to Carlos, his hand sliding down to curl around Carlos’ wrist. “Wow. No one’s ever been worried about me before. Neat.” He voice dipped low in Carlos’ stomach on the last word and coiled warmly there.

Carlos pulled his hand away and cleared his throat, hoping his blush wasn’t visible. “He … he shouldn’t hit you.”

Cecil laughed. “Relax. He didn’t use the belt, so it’s no worry. _Relax,_ ” he said sharply when Carlos tried to protest again. His dark brown eyes narrowed and he was serious, his speech losing all of its lilts and valley-girl-esque mannerisms. “My father _loves me,_ Carlos. He is _not_ abusive. You don’t know what we’ve been through. Don’t you _dare_ judge us. Understood?”

He was utterly -- _utterly, **impossibly**_ \-- still then, and a chill swept over Carlos’ skin. He shivered as the light breeze didn’t disturb so much as a single hair on Cecil’s head, and nodded. “Yeah. I understand. I’m sorry, Cecil.”

There was one more heartbeat of preternatural stillness and then Cecil’s smile came back as the room warmed.

"Great! Now, give us a kiss."

He puckered his lips and leaned forward, tilting his head up and waggling his eyebrows, but Carlos pushed him away with a nervous laugh. “Knock it off. Come on, let’s study.”

Cecil just rolled his eyes and pouted.

~~~~~

"Hey, pay attention." Carlos tapped his pencil on Cecil’s knuckles. The boy was staring pensively out the window.

"It’s getting dark," he murmured.

"What?"

Cecil pursed his lips and frowned. “It’s getting dark. If Dad’s not back soon, you’ll have to stay the night.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “I told you to knock it off, Ce--"

Cecil whipped his head around so fast his hair flew out and across Carlos’ face. He had the same unnatural stillness to him as earlier, and his expression was hard. “I’m not hitting on you. No one goes outside on the reservation at night. _No one._ ” He shoved himself up and grabbed the wall phone, dialing as he stared at the darkening sky and twirled the cord around his finger. “Hey, Elder Josie, this is Cecil. Do you know where my dad is? I have a friend over. He lives off-rez.” He sighed as he listened. “Okay. Okay. You will? Thanks. I’ll call as soon as Dad’s back. I owe them. Thank you, Elder Josie. I will. You, too.” He hung up and started putting all of their work away, talking in a quiet hurry. “When Dad pulls up, get out the door and in the car _as fast as you can._ Don’t stop. Don’t look back. _Just do it._ _**Do it,**_ ” he snapped. Carlos shut his barely-opened mouth. Cecil was _afraid._ Almost _terrified._ He sat down and packed his things as Cecil left the house, muttering about his puppies.

A few minutes later, they were by the open front door as Mr. Palmer pulled up with a screech of his tires. Cecil pushed Carlos out the door.

"Go! Now! See you tomorrow!"

The moment Carlos left the safety of the house his entire body went cold with the knowledge -- the _absolute knowledge_ \-- that behind him -- _right behind him_ \-- was an ancient terror, something vast and awful and headed _right for him,_ and he was almost sobbing from primeval fear when he hit the cruiser door at a run he didn’t remember breaking into, flinging the door open and himself inside and even though the feeling abated, it didn’t go away -- it _followed them_ as they drove and only left once they were off the reservation.

Carlos finally twisted around in his seat to look behind them, but the land was empty. He stared, shaking, at Mr. Palmer. “What _was_ that?”

"You’ve been listening to Cecil’s theories too much," was the flat reply. "Work ran late. Did he pay attention? No -- did he _learn?_ "

Carlos’ heart was still pounding and he crossed himself several times even though he wasn’t really religious, and the ritual of it made him feel better. “Uh, yeah. He learned. He’s actually, uhm …”

"Smarter than he acts?" Mr. Palmer’s lips twitched towards a smile, then changed their mind, settling back into a thin line.

"Uh … yeah."

"Cecil has his ways of coping with life. He’s a good boy." They were silent the rest of the way to Carlos’ house, and once they’d pulled up, Mr. Palmer turned to him. "I’m paying you to tutor my son," he stated. Carlos nodded. "You don’t have to be his friend. But if you do, it would be good for him. He needs more than the spirits to talk to. Goodnight."

It was a clear dismissal and Carlos was unlocking the front door before Mr. Palmer’s words really registered. He paused, then shrugged. Everyone had their own beliefs.

"Carlos! Are you home?" his mother called from the kitchen.

"No, Mom, I’m a serial killer," was the usual reply. She laughed and bustled out to hug him, then gripped his shoulders and looked him up and down intently, pursing her lips. Carlos rolled his eyes. "Don’t worry, Cecil didn’t make me gay. He didn’t hit on me. He didn’t touch my no-no place. He didn’t --"

"I don’t need your sarcasm," his mother snapped. "Did you eat?"

"We had some snacks. I’m not hungry. Can I go upstairs, please? I need to take a shower. Wash the residual gay off." He ducked out of her grasp and trotted up the stairs.

"Don’t give me that sass, boy! Don’t think I won’t beat you!" she yelled after him.

Carlos leaned over the railing at the top of the stairs. “Love you, too!” he yelled back with a grin. Once he was in his room he locked his door, stripped, and jumped into the shower. He was a very clean young man. He showered every day. Having time to masturbate without the fear of being caught certainly had nothing to do with it. Carlos just liked being clean -- he was a bigger guy, and sweated a lot. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t thinking of Cecil as he bit his lip and stroked himself. Not his smooth, tan skin. Not his large brown eyes. Not his long hair, not his low voice and bright laughter, not the feeling of his long fingers around Carlos’ wrist. Carlos. Wasn’t. Gay.

He came with a gasp and a shudder, taking a moment to catch his breath and let the hot water beat down on him before cleaning up quickly. He had things to do that had nothing to do with strange boys who thought ancient legends were true and looked at him like he was Adonis. If he studied hard, he could graduate early and move on to college. Maybe he could find a promising internship.

There were two messages on his phone when Carlos sat down on his bed to get dressed. He didn’t recognize the number, but he recognized the voice on the other end.

"Carlos! Uh, hi! It’s Cecil. This is Cecil. I’m Cecil." Carlos smiled and shook his head. "I, uh, just wanted to make sure you got off the reservation. Didn’t get eaten. Uhm. Call me back. This is, uh, my home phone. Don’t call after nine -- it attracts the wendigo. So … call me! Have a good night! … Bye!"

The next message was also Cecil, sounding a bit put out. “So, uh, hi. It’s me. Cecil. Dad came home. He said you got home safe. So, I mean, you don’t have to call. I mean, like, you can if you want to! That’d be great! But, like, you know … only if you want to. Uh. See you tomorrow. Bye!”

Carlos rolled his eyes. Cecil was _strange._ He finished dressing, then dug out his homework and started on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Creepy backstory, and the moon isn't real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a suicide attempt.
> 
> Chapter 1-3 illustrations by [Carro](http://goddess-in-green.tumblr.com).

"Ok, so if I take three additional courses at the university this summer, and --"

"No phones in school, Mr. Garcia!" Principal Winchell called. She had Cecil by the scruff of his unrepentant neck and a scowl on her face.

"-- One moment, please." Carlos lowered his phone and raised his voice slightly. "I’m talking with a university representative about what I need to get scholarships and graduate early, ma’am. I’ve got a four-point-eight GPA, two jobs, _and_ I watch four younger siblings while my parents work. I don’t think I’m slacking by being on the phone, ma’am."

Principal Winchell stared at him for a moment as he gave her his best grin, then sighed and shook Cecil, who was cackling. “… Talk in the office, then. Shut up, Mr. Palmer.”

"Thank you very much, ma’am." Carlos raised his phone again and trotted to the office. "My apologies, sir. So, three university courses this summer, and I can take them online if I need to, then I should be able to graduate a year early and see you all in two years?"

"Absolutely." The rep’s grin was audible. "You’ve got a lot of scholarship options, too. Racial minority, your GPA, your job - you said you have two?"

"I’m tutoring a classmate in chemistry."

"Oh! Great! Ok, let’s see … child of immigrants, first in your family to go to college …" The rep laughed. "I think the only way you could get _more_ money was if you were gay. You’re not gay, too, are you?" Carlos started to stammer and the rep laughed again. "Sorry, it was a joke. It's true, but none of my business." The bell rang. "Ok, Carlos, I’ll let you get back to class and I’ll e-mail all of this to you. Call me later, ok?"

"Yeah, thanks. Have a good day." Carlos hung up and hurried to English. Cecil’s Muslim friend turned around as he slid into the seat behind her.

"Are you and Cecil dating?" she whispered. She sounded five, her voice high and sweet.

Carlos dropped his notebook in shock and glared at her. " _No,_ ” he hissed back. “I’m not gay. I told him. Did he tell you we were …?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “No, you twit. And being bisexual _is_ a thing, you know. I’m Dana. _I'm_ his best friend. He’s _completely_ in love with you.”

"He doesn’t even _know_ me," Carlos snapped. "I’m just tutoring him."

"Ok, ok, whatever. But you’re getting a Palestinian wedding. You’re the richer one, so _you_ can give _Cecil_ a dowry. Leave the rest to me."

"You’re crazy, both of you."

Dana smiled sweetly and turned to the teacher. Carlos glared at the back of her head.

~~~~~

That night, Carlos was deep in a free online physics course when his phone vibrated with a call. He frowned at Cecil’s number before picking up. “… Hello?”

"Is the moon even _real?_ "

That made him laugh as he stretched. " _What?_ ”

"Yeah, I was looking at the moon until a wendigo came to the window, so I had to close the drapes, because Dad hates it when they come around -- they trample the garden, see -- and yeah, I was like, what _is_ the moon? Is it even _real?_ Is it _watching_ us? And _you're_ smart -- like, _really_ smart -- so I thought you’d know."

Carlos sighed and looked out his own window at the same moon. It was wonderfully full and bright. “Funny, Cecil, but I’m doing some homework right now.”

"Why is it funny?" Cecil was clearly confused. "I asked _Steve,_ but _he_ says there are secret bases on the moon that monitor everyone on Earth. That’s ridiculous, right? We’d be able to see them with telescopes, but _he_ says they’re underground. So I pushed him down and ate his banana. _I_ think it was made by Pepsi. That’s the sort of publicity stunt they’d pull, right? Good for Pepsi, I say!"

He was _completely_ serious. Carlos covered his eyes and counted to ten. “Cecil … no. _No._ The moon is real, and it isn’t a publicity stunt. Look, I’ll explain tomorrow, ok?”

"Well, ok … Hey, do you want to be on my radio show?"

"I’ll pass. Go to sleep, Cecil."

There was a sigh from the other end of the line. “Ok. Goodnight, Carlos.”

"Goodnight, Cecil."

~~~~~

Cecil was staring out the window, his eyes glassy. Carlos sighed and slammed his book shut, and Cecil finally looked at him as he stood.

"Hmm?"

"I can’t tutor you if you’re not going to pay attention, Cecil. I’m _not_ going to tutor you if you’re not going to pay attention."

Cecil hastily stood, his large eyes even larger. “No! Don’t go! I’m sorry, Carlos. I’ll pay attention!” The microwave dinged and he spun toward it. “The popcorn’s done!” Carlos sighed loudly and Cecil turned back to him slowly, sheepishly. “… Sorry.”

Cecil wasn’t stupid. Carlos _knew_ he wasn’t stupid. Cecil had made some very shrewd observations in the history class they shared, and when the Slavic exchange student had decided to celebrate Halloween by dressing as a racist caricature of a Native American, Cecil’s eloquent tirade about cultural appropriation over the PA system during lunch - one that Principal Winchell hadn’t bothered stopping - had been nearly poetic in his tightly controlled fury.

Carlos suspected an undiagnosed case of ADHD, but then, Carlos suspected a lot of things.

Cecil was getting distracted again, so he snapped his fingers and once he had Cecil’s attention, jerked his thumb toward the front door. “Come on, let’s go outside, play some football.” He frowned at Cecil’s tight shorts and brightly striped leggings. “… You’d better put some long pants on.”

"… Yeah …" Cecil shook himself. "Yeah, sure! It’s light enough out. We can play with the puppies before dark!" He headed toward his room. "Come see my room!"

"You’re changing," Carlos called after him. "And I’m pretty sure those are wolves."

"They’re _puppies,_ and honey, I don’t have anything you don’t have yourself!"

Carlos shrugged and followed Cecil against his better judgement. The other boy was down to his … lacy … panties … and pulling out an old pair of pants. Carlos forgot how to breathe as his heart started to pound. Cecil was wearing lacy pink panties. Panties. Pink ones. Lacy ones. He stood up and Carlos whipped around, investigating the old radio equipment on Cecil’s desk. There were notes all over, news reports and story ideas and song titles. The equipment was in good repair for its age, and there were a few library books on radio broadcasting and radio dramas. Most importantly, Carlos’ back was to Cecil and his delicate panties.

"I want to be a broadcast journalist. Or bring back radio plays," Cecil breathed in his ear. Carlos jumped and stepped away quickly, but couldn’t get far in Cecil’s tiny room. "I have a show. Did I tell you? I do news for the reservation twice a month. It’s all fictional, but I think I’m building up a good world. Wanna be on it sometime?"

He’d forgotten asking a few weeks previously. Carlos shrugged. “I’m pretty busy. Come on, let’s go outside.” If Cecil was active, maybe he’d focus better.

Cecil grabbed a football that sat next to a pair of ballet flats and cheerfully led the way, throwing himself into the horde of wolf-dogs laying around the front yard with a shriek. They all leapt up and started howling, thus cementing Carlos’ conviction that they were, in fact, wolf hybrids, if not full wolves. They were certainly larger than any dog Carlos had ever seen. He picked up the dropped football and called out to Cecil, who spun around and easily caught it when Carlos threw it. A few rounds of throwing it back and forth later, Cecil was running around Carlos, just out of arm’s reach, cradling the football like it was a baby and making up a ridiculous lullaby. Carlos was asking him questions about chemistry through his laughter, questions Cecil would pause his song long enough to answer correctly before launching into a new verse. He finally presented the football to Carlos.

"Here. Kiss our baby."

" _Baby?_ " Carlos doubled over as he fought giggles. " _Our_ baby? It’s a football."

"Carlos!" Cecil was scandalized and gently stroked the football. "Don’t worry, sweetie, Papa doesn’t mean it. You’re going to give Meghan a complex, Carlos. For shame."

"I’m not sure it’s mine," Carlos said skeptically. "Doesn’t look a thing like me." Cecil threw the football at him in disgust and Carlos tackled him in retaliation, then yelled as they were covered in hounds. Cecil laughed uncontrollably and rolled over so he was above Carlos, one leg between Carlos’ thighs and his arms resting by Carlos’ head. He leaned down so their noses brushed against one another, hands almost cupping Carlos’ cheeks. Between that and the curtain of long hair that fell forward, Cecil was an effective shield against the playful beasts cavorting around them. He was giggling softly and watching Carlos. Carlos’ arms were still around his waist, and his jeans had slid down enough that Carlos’ fingers brushed against the smooth skin of his lower back and the lace of his panties. Carlos laughed until he realized what he was touching, and that Cecil’s thigh was pressed firmly between his legs, and that that was causing a response that was uncomfortable on several levels, even if Cecil was giving no indication that he noticed the obvious. "Uhm … Cecil … The dogs are gone …"

Cecil’s grin widened. “Then let me up,” he murmured. Carlos bit his lip and had to force his hands to uncurl from Cecil’s hips and fall to the ground. Cecil drew back slowly, moving down Carlos’ body, and for a moment Carlos thought he was going to kiss down his chest, but the boy sat up before getting to his knees and then lunging away, laughing wildly as the dogs took off after him.

He was over a small hill before Carlos realized that he wasn’t going to come back, so he struggled to get up and followed as quickly as he could. He’d been slowly losing weight at the construction job his father had gotten for him, and figured that he could also probably stand to start running. He followed Cecil and his wolf-dog pack down to the creek behind his home. He tried to call out as Cecil rounded a bend, but was too out of breath. Carlos followed the sound of the dogs instead, and a few minutes later came upon Cecil, quiet and still, standing at the edge of a sharp drop.

The air was unnaturally silent as Carlos came to a panting stop a few yards behind Cecil. The dogs didn’t move. They watched their master, who didn’t move. The hair on the back of Carlos’ neck stood up and he wanted them to get out of there. There was nothing about this silent place that he liked.

"Cecil?" Not even the air moved.

"This is where it happened."

He’d almost missed Cecil’s quiet words. “Where what happened? Cecil?”

"Mom," was the softer reply. Carlos’ gut clenched as he started to suspect a _lot_ of things. He stepped forward and Cecil turned his head a few centimeters. Carlos stopped. "I was ten." He raised his hand to the empty air in front of him, as if reaching out for someone or something. His voice echoed oddly, like they were in a small room, and he held his arms out like he would fly off edge and into the sky. "It had just rained. We’d gone for a walk. It was almost full dark. I got too close to the edge." He tilted his face up to the overcast sky. "I was afraid. She told me to hold still and close my eyes. Then … she took my place."

When he didn’t continue, Carlos reached out for him. “I’m sorry, Cecil. Please come back. It wasn’t your fault. Please, Cecil.”

"I bet I can fly …"

Cecil started to pitch forward and Carlos lunged for him, catching him by the waist and hauling him backward, the heels of his feet sliding off the edge momentarily before he could get them both back far enough. Cecil let out a startled squawk and began to struggle, but Carlos outweighed him by at least sixty pounds and straddled his hips, pinning his arms above his head.

"Hey!"

"What the hell, Cecil?!" Carlos gasped out as his heart pounded, shaking. "What the fucking hell?! Why would you try to jump?"

Cecil was squirming, and turned his face to the side with a shrug. “I … I just wanted to fly. Let me go.”

" _No!_ " Carlos’ normal tenor jumped up an octave and he thought he might cry as the dogs took the situation as an invitation to play again, bounding toward them, licking their faces and barking. "You tried to jump off a fucking _cliff,_ Cecil! Are --"

"It’s more of a ravine."

"-- you fucking _crazy?_ What is _wrong_ with you?!" Carlos pulled Cecil up and hugged him tightly, trying not to cry from the adrenaline. Cecil just sighed and rested his cheek on Carlos’ shoulder, sliding his cold hands around Carlos’ waist, under his shirt. He may have been sniffling. "Your mother’s death wasn’t your fault, Cecil," he murmured. Cecil’s arms around him tightened. Carlos hesitantly ran his fingers through Cecil’s silky black hair, encouraged when Cecil sighed and started to relax. "Just … stop. I can’t … I don’t know what to do, here," he confessed. Cecil was … _smelling_ … his neck. Carlos let him, if it meant Cecil wasn’t going to try to kill himself again. "How do I make you not hurt yourself?"

Cecil’s laugh was more felt than heard, and he raised one hand and gripped Carlos’ bushy black hair gently. “I don’t want to hurt myself,” he murmured. Carlos didn’t believe him. “I just … I want things to be different.” His lips were resting on Carlos’ neck. “I want my mom back. I can’t talk to her. I can talk to others. I can talk to the wendigo. I just can’t talk to _her._ Sometimes I think I can see her, or hear her. I just … I miss her _so_ much.”

He started to cry, then, and Carlos held him tightly, like he would his baby sisters after they'd had a nightmare. They sat in the dead leaves of the approaching winter, somewhat warmed by the dog pack and their own bodies, Cecil with his skinny jeans and silk blouse and unearthly strangeness and Carlos with his slacks and button-down shirt and inability to _begin_ to comprehend the boy in his arms, until the sun started to set.

The wind picked up and Carlos squeezed Cecil gently. “Hey,” he murmured. “Are you awake?” Cecil shook his head. “Ok. The sun’s setting, thou--”

" _Shit!_ " Cecil leapt up and stumbled, hitting his knees as he panicked. He scrambled back up and pulled on Carlos’ shirt as the dogs went crazy around them. His eyes were wild. "We have to go! Hurry!"

Carlos gave up trying to reason with Cecil about his fear of sunsets and just got up and ran with him. He stumbled and Cecil grabbed his hand and they kept running. They weren’t going to make it before dark -- how had they gotten so far in such a short time? -- but as they crested a hill, so did Cecil’s father. His cruiser skidded to a halt inches from them. The boys tumbled in, leaving the dogs to find their own way back, and the tires squealed as Mr. Palmer popped the cruiser into gear and spun it around. His hand snapped out and caught Cecil’s cheek so hard that Cecil’s head cracked against Carlos’ as he cried out. Carlos had never seen Cecil really try to dodge his father’s strikes before -- had never seen his father hit him so hard -- but this time he did, hunching his shoulders and raising his hands to cover his head.

"Mom!" he yelped. The strike headed his way froze. Mr. Palmer sighed.

"Why."

Cecil looked at Carlos, tears in his eyes and his cheek bright red. “Uhm, I’m sorry, Mr. Palmer. We needed a break. I thought Cecil might … might learn better if he was physically active.”

Mr. Palmer heaved another sigh. “You’re staying the night. I talked with your parents.”

Carlos started to protest, but Cecil turned his face into his shoulder, squeezing his hand, still shaking. He sighed. He had projects he was working on, but …

"I don’t have clean clothes."

"We’ll wash the ones you’re wearing. Get inside."

Cecil finally let Carlos’ hand go and they all hurried inside as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he disappeared down the hall and reappeared a few moments later in a robe, holding one for Carlos. Carlos took it and went to Cecil’s room, changing quickly. The robe was big even on him - it had to have been Mr. Palmer’s. He went back to the living room with his clothes in his hands and Cecil took them silently. He seemed … embarrassed. Carlos couldn’t imagine why.

"Do you need to shower tonight or in the morning?"

"Whatever’s most convenient for you two, sir."

"Go." Mr. Palmer jerked his chin toward the bathroom, gripping Cecil’s upper arm tightly, and Carlos went.

The bathroom was almost claustrophobically small, and the mirror was covered. He frowned at that and bathed as quickly as he could, and Cecil was sitting on the bed when Carlos went back to his room. He was toying with his hair and had a bundle of clothes next to him. He didn’t look up. “You can wear these tonight.”

Carlos sat next to him. “Are you ok?”

Cecil shrugged. “I just … I’m sorry.”

"For what?"

Now he was blushing. “Well … I got … clingy. And you’re straight. And I know that. I respect that. I was holding your --”

"Whoa, whoa," Carlos interrupted. Cecil looked at him in surprise. Carlos smiled. "You were kind of having a crisis, Cecil. You weren’t hitting on me. I’m not gay, but I’m not an asshole. I’m not going to freak out just because you needed a hug after you tried to kill yourself."

Cecil rested his head on Carlos’ shoulder. “… I smelled you.”

"Yeah."

"… I may have licked you."

Carlos sighed softly. “… Yeah.”

"… I’m not sorry."

Carlos groaned and placed his palm on Cecil’s cheek, giving a gentle shove. “Just shut it, Cecil. Don’t push your luck.”

Cecil was smiling again at last, and stood up. “Well, I’ll try to get your lips next time.”

"Even better," Carlos retorted, "let’s not _have_ a next time."

"Ugh, you’re no fun." Cecil swept out the door and Carlos got dressed.

"Carlos."

He jumped. Mr. Palmer had been in the kitchen, the last Carlos had known, but he’d _sounded_ like he was right next to Carlos. No wonder Cecil had heard him over the noise at Carlos’ house. Carlos hurried to the kitchen, where Mr. Palmer was cooking. He didn’t look up or turn around.

"What happened." His voice was flat, emotionless.

"I … we went outside. I was quizzing Cecil while he was active. It … seemed to help him concentrate."

"Or wore him out enough that he wouldn’t be easily distracted. Why were you at the ravine."

Carlos went cold at the memory. “He … he took off. I followed him, and he was …” Carlos didn’t want to go on.

Mr. Palmer’s shoulders slumped a little as he sighed. “He was at the edge again. Did he try to jump this time?”

Again. This time. Cecil had done this before, and Carlos’ own shoulders slumped with a sick sort of relief at the knowledge. “I caught him. That’s why we were dirty. He told me what happened … He said he could talk to the spirits and the wendigo, but not … not his mother. He said he thought he could fly. I pulled him back.”

Mr. Palmer was silent for a long time and Carlos just stared at his shoulder-length hair. Finally, he nodded. “Thank you. You’re a good friend, Carlos. Cecil needs good friends. He doesn’t have many. I was surprised,” he went on as he finally turned, “that you don’t care about his feelings for you. Your parents certainly do.”

Carlos shrugged and stepped out of the huge man’s way. He barely fit in the trailer. “It’s none of my business. I’m not really religious, and Cecil doesn’t try to … He’s just _there._ He’s just Cecil. He’s strange and can be a little creepy, but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to eat, rape, or kill me.”

A small smile crossed Mr. Palmer’s lips as he started chopping vegetables. “No, I don’t think he will. No one wants to become a wendigo. Especially not Cecil.”

Carlos was fine with telling Cecil that mythological cannibals weren’t real, but his father was a different story. He just nodded. “Can I help?”

"Yes. Date my son." Carlos and Cecil both spluttered and when Carlos whipped around, Cecil was as red as Carlos felt he himself must be. Mr. Palmer laughed. "You two set the table."

" _Dad,_ " Cecil hissed as he planted his fists on his hips, " _Stop it._ Carlos is _straight._ He _doesn't like dick. Gawd,_ are you _trying_ to ruin our friendship?!" He stalked around, pulling out plates and silverware, and Mr. Palmer caught Carlos’ eye and winked. For such an intimidating, stoic beast of a man, he still took a parent’s joy in tormenting their children.

"Nice pj’s," Carlos finally said.

Cecil’s muttering stopped and he grinned, looking up at Carlos through his lashes. “Really? You like them?”

"Yeah. I didn’t know they made footsie pj’s for adults."

"Dad got them for me last year, for Christmas." Cecil did a slow turn. They were purple and fuzzy and had a butt flap.

They all sat down and Mr. Palmer looked at Carlos. “Do you pray?”

"Not if I don’t have to. If you do, I don’t care."

"Good!" Cecil started dishing up corn and rice as his father speared some meat for Carlos. "Are you going to winter prom? I am."

"Probably not. My parents think dances are dens of lust and debauchery or something. I don’t like them, anyway." He took his plate from Cecil. "Thanks. Then again, my parents are worried you’ll make me gay, so I might have to make at least a token show of heterosexuality for them. Ugh." He frowned. "I’d have to find a date. I don’t really know anyone - I just transferred a couple months ago. I’d rather stay home."

"I’d go with you - I can pass as a girl really well - but I don’t think that would help."

Carlos laughed. “Yeah, probably not.”

"Who are you going with? Earl?"

Cecil rolled his eyes as he ate. " _Dad._ Earl and I broke up _months_ ago. We weren’t even really dating. I just wanted to get laid.” Then he glanced at Carlos, flushed darker, and looked down at his plate, concentrating on his food.

His father sighed. Carlos was too fascinated by their relationship to be flustered over Cecil’s openness about having sex. The fact that he was able to be so frank with his father - the fact that his father was fine with him being openly gay _and_ having sex - was completely alien to Carlos. He _never_ talked with his parents about so much as _dating,_ much less sex, and the few times _they'd_ tried, he’d sat in awkward silence until they’d given up. It had all pretty much boiled down to ‘don’t have sex, don’t be gay, and don’t get anyone pregnant,’ anyway.

"If you don’t have a date, where are you staying after the dance?"

Cecil shrugged. “I dunno. There’s always a jock or two who’ll sneak me in after his folks are asleep. What?” he asked as Carlos’ jaw dropped. “It’s true. Dad knows I have sex. He can’t really stop me.” Mr. Palmer was nodding. “I’ll either do it here or somewhere else, and Dad doesn’t like me staying out of the house overnight unless it’s off-rez, and you and Dana are my only off-rez friends. So …” He shrugged. “At least I let him know where I’ll be and who I’ll be with. I think that’s a lot better than sneaking around and lying, don’t you?”

He seemed honestly upset that Carlos might care. Carlos shook his head quickly. “Oh, no, no, no. I mean, yeah. It makes sense. I just … It’s just weird to me, because my parents … we’re not like that in my family. I don’t know anyone else who … It’s nice. I can’t talk to my parents about anything.”

"Well, Dad’s about the _only_ person I have to talk to, so …" Cecil propped his elbows on the table and his chin in his hand, pushing his food around on his plate disgustedly. "I just wish that all these so-called ‘straight’ guys would just admit they like dick and stop sneaking blowjobs at lunch."

Mr. Palmer sighed again as Carlos covered his burning face. “Cecil, be quiet. You’re making Carlos uncomfortable. We’ll talk about this later.”

The rest of dinner was uneventful, and after, Mr. Palmer sat on the couch with Cecil curled up at his feet, brushing his son’s long hair as an old musical played on the television. They were talking quietly as Carlos sat at the kitchen table and worked a few chapters ahead for his classes. He wasn’t _trying_ to pay attention, but he kept glancing over to watch their interaction. Cecil was animated as he talked, using his hands for emphasis and turning or tilting his head often to look up at his father. Mr. Palmer, in turn, smiled fondly down at his son as he brushed and braided and talked. Once or twice Carlos heard his own name, but Cecil mostly seemed to be talking about his radio show and what he was doing for prom. It was warm and endearing to watch them.

Eventually, Cecil plopped down across from him. “Ok, Dad says I have to study before I can work on my show. Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Studying, nightmares, and Marcus. Because Marcus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1-3 illustrations by [Carro](http://goddess-in-green.tumblr.com).

Two hours later, Carlos had figured out a somewhat easy way to keep Cecil’s attention on his work. They were playing a game of sorts, getting Cecil up and moving around, or working with his hands. Carlos had mention it would be useful if Cecil was able to make models of the chemical compounds they were studying, and Cecil had promptly produced modeling clay and paint in several shades. Between making the models and moving around the trailer, Cecil had enough things to keep him physically occupied enough that he could mentally focus -- and he learned _fast._ True, he dismissed most of it in favor of outrageous theories (plate tectonics were a result of an expanding Earth, he explained patiently as Carlos stared at him), but he _did_ retain the critical information at higher-than-average speeds. He could have graduated already if he’d applied himself, and shrugged with a bashful smile when Carlos said so.

"Then I wouldn’t have met you." Carlos looked down, embarrassed, and Cecil brightened. "Besides, we’ll graduate together, now, since you’re skipping eleventh grade."

"You’re a junior?"

"Well, I certainly didn’t _fail_ any years." Cecil’s voice was teasing. "Yeah, I’m a junior. I’ll be seventeen in December. Are we done? I’m tired."

Carlos nodded. “Ok. We’re done.”

"Great! Come on -- let’s go to bed." He got up and headed toward his room, giving his father a kiss on the cheek and then turning back when Carlos didn’t follow. "Are you coming?"

"I thought I’d be sleeping out here." He didn’t think he could handle sleeping in Cecil’s room with him. Not with the sleepless nights the beautiful young man gave him when they _weren't_ so close.

"Honey," Cecil crooned, "you don’t have to sleep in my _bed._ Not _with_ me, at least. I’ll take the floor."

"The couch is uncomfortable to sleep on," his father added as he turned the TV off and stood up. "Goodnight." He leaned down to kiss Cecil's forehead before heading to bed.

"Goodnight! See? I promise I won’t try to seduce you."

"I’m not worried about that." Carlos stood and walked up to Cecil, staring down at him. He was almost half a foot taller, and from that angle, the light hitting Cecil’s eyes almost made them look like they were glowing. They looked at each other for a long time, Cecil’s lips half-parted, until he smiled slightly and turned in to his room. Carlos followed, heart pounding and mouth dry, and watched Cecil throw a pillow and some blankets on the floor. He finally turned to Carlos and looked him up and down.

"I don’t think you’ll fit on the bed."

"Probably not. I’ll be fine on the floor." Cecil shrugged and they lay down, then he closed his blinds and pulled out a notebook that had a small reading light attached to it. He flicked it on, but they were still mostly in complete darkness. "Uhm, can you open the blinds a little?"

"The wendigo will come around."

Carlos sighed. “Wendigo aren’t real, Cecil. They’re not even a Navajo belief.”

Cecil put his notebook aside and folded his arms at the edge of his bed, looking down at Carlos, a darker shape in the darkness. The faint light from the book light caught in the lavender bits of his hair. “Yeah, well, you’ve never met a wendigo, so what do _you_ know?”

Carlos just sighed and let Cecil believe he’d made a valid point.

~~~~~

Cecil was whimpering and thrashing around. Carlos sat up. It was the dead of night, and he sighed as he knelt by Cecil’s bed and reached out for the boy as something -- probably one of the dogs, and _not_ a wendigo, because those didn't exist -- snuffled around outside the window.

"Hey, Cecil, wake up." It didn’t work. Neither did shaking him. Cecil was getting more and more agitated and short of physically striking him, Carlos couldn’t wake him up. He was starting to shiver and cry in his sleep -- small, pathetic mewls that ripped at Carlos’ heart. He sighed and got into the bed next to Cecil, sliding under the warm covers and wrapping his arms around the other boy, holding him tightly, stroking his hair and whispering gently to him. "Shh, Cecil, it’s ok, you’re ok …"

Cecil quieted slowly as Carlos tightened his grip, clinging to him and panting in his sleep. He snuggled into Carlos’ arms and shivered. Carlos placed a gentle kiss to his temple and Cecil sighed softly against his neck, making him shiver, too. Carlos swallowed and kissed him again before closing his eyes.

~~~~~

Cecil was facing the wall in the morning, tucked securely against Carlos’ chest and holding Carlos’ arm tightly across his own chest. He was breathing deeply, his muscles tense, and each breath out shook slightly.

Carlos squeezed him gently, frowning. “Hey, Cecil, wake up.”

Cecil’s breath was warm on his arm. “I am,” he whispered hoarsely.

"… Oh. Are you ok? You had a nightmare last night." He was still shivering.

"Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry about the nightmare. Rough day yesterday." He was panting, now, and turned his face into Carlos’ arm as he swallowed sharply.

Carlos pushed himself up a little, too concerned to be turned on by Cecil’s closeness. He tried to turn the other boy over, but Cecil refused to move. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Eyes squeezed shut, Cecil laughed. “Carlos, I’ve got a gorgeous guy in my bed, all up against me, and I’m gay as hell. What do you _think's_ wrong?”

Carlos pulled back a little in surprise. “Uh … you … Really?”

Cecil’s next laugh edged into a soft moan. " _Yes._ I’ve got the boner to prove it, if you want to see.”

That made Carlos blush. “Uh, no, thanks.”

"Suit yourself. Let me up. If we’re not going to fuck, I need to use the bathroom."

Carlos sat up and Cecil bolted out of the room, face flushed deeper-than-usual russet and hair a mess. Carlos stared after him as his heart pounded. He wasn’t sure how the knowledge that Cecil was masturbating and _absolutely_ thinking of _him_ as he did so made him feel.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about _that,_ either.

His clothes, clean and ironed, were on Cecil’s desk, and he was dressed by the time Cecil knocked on the door. He didn’t mention the past quarter hour, just cheerfully shooed Carlos out so he could also get dressed. There were two covered plates on the kitchen table when Carlos wandered in, and Mr. Palmer was nowhere to be seen. His cruiser was gone.

"Dad will come back to take us to school." Cecil sat down and took the foil off the plates, digging into the previous night’s leftovers. "Ok, so, about the project due next month …"

~~~~~

Carlos looked up at the hesitant knock at his door, pausing his video game. “Come in.” It wasn’t his mother. Juana stood shyly in the doorway, wearing one of his shirts. It looked like a baggy dress on her, hiding her developing breasts and hitting her knees. She almost looked like a young boy. “Who said you could wear my shirt?” She bit her lip and looked down, and Carlos took pity on her. “Ok, fine, wear it. Just let me know next time. What do you want?”

She looked from him to Marcus hesitantly. “Uhm … Can I hang out with you guys?”

That got her a baffled look. “Why? We’re just playing video games.”

"I know, I just … I just wanted to hang out."

"Uh … Marcus?"

His friend shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t care. More people for me to beat.”

Juana’s face lit up as Carlos shrugged and she closed the door behind her, settling between the two boys as they sat on the bed, and reached for a controller. “Mom never lets me play video games. She says they’re unladylike and for boys.”

Marcus snorted as he reset the game. “Your mother was obviously _not_ raised on Nintendo. Now look, Juana, we’re guys. We swear sometimes. We’re mean to each other. I don’t want you crying if I call you a little bitch because you can’t kill me.”

"Why don’t you just not call my sister a bitch?" Carlos huffed, reaching over Juana’s head to punch Marcus in the shoulder.

"Just because _Mom_ doesn’t let me play video games doesn’t mean I _never_ play them," Juana told him. " _You_ don’t cry like a little bitch when I kill _you._ " Both boys stared at her and she flushed, but held her head high. "And, uh … don’t tell Mom I swear."

Marcus grinned. “I like you, kid.” They turned back to the game.

Half an hour later, Marcus and Carlos both threw down their controllers in disgust as Juana beamed. “I told you.” The smugness in her voice was irritating. “Pay up.”

"No way!" Marcus protested. "I wasn’t serious!"

"Excuse me?" She looked at Carlos for support, then back at Marcus. "You said you’d pay me fifty bucks if I won every round, and I did! You _said._ You didn’t say you were joking. Pay up!"

Carlos grinned at his friend. “You can’t go back on your word, Marcus. You said you’d pay her if she beat us, and she beat us. You can’t not pay up just because you didn’t think you’d lose.” He slung an arm around Juana’s shoulders as she, too, grinned. “You owe Juana fifty bucks.”

Marcus slid off the bed and stood with a scowl. “I don’t _have_ fifty dollars, you little shits. Not _on_ me.”

"Then why’d you make the bet in the first place?" Carlos leaned over and grabbed his wallet off of his desk, pulled out fifty dollars, and handed it to his grinning sister. "You owe me, Marcus. You’re lucky Mr. Palmer just paid me." His phone rang and he grabbed it. "Speaking of … Hey, Cecil." He flicked it on speaker phone.

"Celia," was the higher-pitched-than-normal reply.

"What?"

There was a huff of a sigh from the other end. “Celia. It’s Celia today.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Celia’s a girl’s name.”

"Yeah. And I’m a girl today. So, uh, my birthday’s coming up --"

Marcus was making rude gestures and Juana was paying close attention to the conversation. “You’re a girl today? How’s that work? You woke up --"

"And felt like a girl," Cecil cut him off. "It happens sometimes. Sometimes I feel like a boy, sometimes I feel like a girl, sometimes both, sometimes neither … It just happens. Anyway, my birthday’s coming up. Wanna come to my party?"

"Hi, Celia!" Juana called out.

"Oh, hey, Juana! Wait, am I on speaker phone? Ugh, _rude._ You should have told me. Anyway, my birthday? It’s next month? I’m having a party?"

"I’m still not sure how you’re a girl," Carlos pressed.

"Because gender’s not as rigid as you might think," Cecil told him, "and it’s all in your head, anyway. I’ve got some books you can read."

Juana lit up at that and looked at him pleadingly. "Uh, sure. Yeah. Thanks. And I’ll ask, but my parents don’t really want me going anywhere right now."

That got a snort. “They don’t want you going anywhere, or they don’t want you spending any more time with _me_ than you have to?”

"Yeah, that."

"Tell them I’m a girl and they won’t mind."

Carlos laughed. “I doubt that will work.”

There was a moment of silence, then, softly, “Do you believe me?”

"What, that you think you’re a girl right now?" Carlos shrugged. "Sure. I mean, you’ve probably thought about gender a lot more than I have."

"… Do you think I’m weird because of it?"

"I do!" Marcus yelled.

"Shut up," Carlos told him sharply. Cecil -- Celia, apparently -- had sounded legitimately concerned, and when he -- she -- sounded concerned, Carlos paid attention. Juana was watching him like she was concerned, too. "No, I don’t think you’re weird for thinking you’re a girl right now."

"Thinking?"

"Well, you said it was all mental, right? You may not physically be female, but sure, mentally, why not? Some people are transgender, so being, uh …"

"Genderfluid," Celia supplied.

"Yeah. Genderfluid. I don’t see why that wouldn’t be a thing. Hey, Marcus, what’s it called in India?"

"Hijri," was the prompt reply. "My aunt’s a hijri. She’s weird, too." He got a glare. "Not because of that. She’s just weird."

Celia’s sigh of relief was apparent. “Good. Anyway, yeah, party, my place, next month.” She cleared her throat. “Uhm …”

Marcus and Juana were both staring at him and Carlos cleared his throat, as well. “Uh … yeah. I’ll ask. I’ve got to go.”

"Oh! Right! Yeah, of course. I’ll, uh, see you Monday then, I guess."

"Yeah. Good night, Celia."

Warmth flooded her voice at his use of the feminine name. “Good night, Carlos.”

They hung up and Carlos looked at his sister and friend. “What?”

"Nothing," Marcus replied. He was grinning. "I’ve gotta get home. I’ll see you later. Bye!"

"Get out," Carlos ordered as he threw a pillow that Marcus ducked. "And bring me my money tomorrow!" Marcus just laughed as he sauntered out of the room, and then Carlos looked down at Juana when she lay her head on his shoulder. "I want to go to bed."

"I want to hang out with my big brother," she returned, pulling the throw that their grandmother had crocheted for him up to her chin and snuggling close. "Please?"

Carlos gave in, because resisting his little sisters was something he hadn’t yet learned to do. “Ok, fine. What do you want to do?”

"Can we watch Jurassic Park?"

"Only if you promise not to have nightmares," Carlos told her as he got up to find the movie. Juana solemnly promised, and by the time the credits were rolling, was fast asleep against him. Carlos looked down at her with a smile before gathering her up in his arms and carrying her to her own room. He kissed her forehead gently after laying her down, then tucked her covers around her chin before turning her night light on and leaving the door open a crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out, White Flag will update every month on the 15th.
> 
> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who is amazing, hint it is Maria. Maria is amazing.

"You make me feel love, love, love, love, love …"

Carlos had been watching the sway of Cecil’s hips for the past few minutes as they waited for his father. He was supposed to be reading one of the books on gender that Cecil had loaned him, but skin-tight jeans, a sunlight-catching metal belt, and an amazing sense of rhythm had effectively ended that activity. So Carlos sat on the steps of the school, trying to relearn how to breathe, and Cecil stood on the pavement, singing to himself and undulating, because there was really no other word for the fluidity of his movements -- well, ‘erotic’ came to mind, but Carlos was trying not to think too hard about anything that involved sex. Cecil was making it difficult.

"So … what are you today?" he finally asked when Cecil flopped down next to him.

He got a tilted head and raised eyebrows. “Hmm?”

"Girl? Boy?"

Cecil thought about it, then shrugged. “I dunno. Cabbage. Yeah. Cabbage sounds good.”

"So … I should call you …?"

"Anything you want, although I’m particular to ‘boyfriend’ right now." Cecil started braiding his lavender streaks and smiled, looking at Carlos out of the corner of his eye. "I like that you don’t freak out when I flirt with you."

Carlos shrugged and made sure the book was covering his lap. “Well, you know, at least _someone's_ flirting with me. I take what I can get.”

Cecil propped his chin in his hand and watched Carlos. “You don’t realize how beautiful you are, do you? You really don’t.” Carlos didn’t answer, but it didn’t seem like Cecil had expected him to. He just sighed and stood up as his father pulled up to the curb. Carlos followed, definitely not watching Cecil’s ass, and looked down when Cecil rested his head on his shoulder once they were in the cruiser. “Ugh, I’m tired. Do we _have_ to study today?”

"If your dad wants to stop by the store, I’ll buy stuff for enchiladas tonight."

Cecil considered, then looked up at Carlos. “Will you stay over?”

Mr. Palmer looked at them in the rearview mirror and Carlos shrugged self-consciously. “Uh, sure, if it’s ok.” It would be a relief, actually -- Juana had started her period that morning, her very first one, and hadn’t stopped shrieking and crying over it. Not even Carlos had been able to console her, and their parents had finally just sent her back to bed after giving her a shot of tequila to calm her down.

"Dad? Please? We’ll make dinner."

Mr. Palmer turned toward the store. “As long as Carlos teaches you how to cook.”

"I know how to cook," Cecil protested, then laughed a little. "… mac and cheese … from a box … Hey, I can boil eggs, too! And bake a potato! I’m a great cook."

His father’s rolled eyes said that that was a lie, and Carlos smiled. “It’s really easy, actually.” Cecil was plucking at his sleeve in the way that Carlos had come to recognize as him feeling the need for physical closeness -- it was nothing sexual, and it didn’t really have anything to do with affection, either. Cecil went through bouts of depression, and sometimes, it seemed to Carlos, just needed to be physically grounded in reality by another person. He linked their arms and grinned at his friend when Cecil looked up at him in surprise. “If you can work at least a day ahead of class, I’ll buy you some ice cream, too.”

Cecil returned his grin. “What’ll you do if I work a week ahead?”

"Nothing you’re hoping I’ll do." Cecil hand was curled around his wrist and Carlos tried not to think about it. "Juana says hi. She wants you to come over when you can. I think she’s got a crush on you."

"No, that’s not why." Cecil seemed sure, and Carlos shrugged. "But tell her hi back for me. How’s she doing?"

"She’s an emotional thirteen-year-old girl. It’s all very dramatic at home, these days."

"Girls go through a lot of shit," Cecil pointed out, "and they do it while being mocked by pretty much everyone. Cut her some slack."

"I’m not unsympathetic. She started her period today, and I don’t want to face the screaming when I get home. I don’t know why she’s freaking out -- yeah, it may hurt, but she’s acting like it’s the end of the world." Carlos texted his mother to let her know, adding on that he’d bring Juana some painkillers and chocolate the next day. Her reply was immediate, thanking him and telling him she’d put money in his bank account.

"If _I_ bled for a week a month, and had cramps and mood swings and shit, I’d freak out, too," Cecil reasoned. "And then I’d throw my tampons at assholes like Steve. The used ones."

"That’s a biohazard. You could go to jail for it."

"It would be worth it."

"Put her in a menstrual hut." Both boys turned to Mr. Palmer as he parked, mouths open in shock.

" _Dad!_ That’s a _horrible_ thing to say!"

"I told your mother to go to a menstrual hut, once. I slept in the cruiser for a week before she let me back in the house." There was a long moment of awkward silence; it was the first time Mr. Palmer had ever mentioned his wife. Carlos looked at Cecil in concern. His face was pinched, like he wanted to hear more about his mother, but at the same time, it hurt too much. Finally Mr. Palmer sighed. "That was a bad joke. Don’t ever repeat it. Get out."

Carlos slid out of Cecil’s grasp once they were out of the car, and only a small sigh indicated his disappointment. He followed Carlos inside and grabbed a basket. “What are we getting?”

"Lots of stuff." Mr. Palmer had walked off, leaving them to scour the supermarket on their own. "Come on. Rice, refried beans, cheese, lettuce …"

Cecil was touching everything he walked past. “We have a lot of that already.”

"Yeah, well, I don’t want to keep eating all your food."

He got a sideways glance and slight smile. “Because we’re poor?”

That was exactly why. Carlos was quiet for a moment as he debated on how to answer, then, simply, “Yes.”

That made Cecil laugh, and he started feeling out some good tomatoes. “Fair enough. I’m not too proud to refuse free food. What do you think about dragons?”

"What sort of dragons? Asian? European?"

"I’m not sure yet. It’s for my show. I’ve got a few ideas, but I don’t want to have too many characters." They got into a discussion on the possible directions to take the character as they shopped. Carlos didn’t think he contributed that much, but Cecil was delighted that he was even trying to help. He really liked his idea for a multi-headed dragon. They met up with Mr. Palmer in the book and magazine aisle, and Cecil grabbed a fantasy book. "Ooh! The next one’s out!" He turned to his father, who was reading through a novel, and bit his lip as he looked up at the man through his lashes and held the book tightly to his chest. "Uhm, Dad? I mean, if it’s not too much money, do you think …"

Carlos watched Mr. Palmer watch his son. He watched him close his eyes slightly, and watched him put his book back slowly, and watched him take his hand off of what he’d clearly been intending to buy for himself and hold it out for the one Cecil held. Cecil lit up and threw his arms around his father, jumping up to kiss his cheek and thank him. Mr. Palmer gave him a rare smile and kissed the top of his head, and they headed toward the checkout. Carlos watched all of this, then grabbed the book Mr. Palmer had put back and tucked it under his arm before following them.

~~~~~

There was an ancient old woman sitting on the porch when they got back to Cecil’s. Her face was lined and heavy, her hair was almost completely white, and she was smoking a cigarette as the wolf-dogs lay around her and stared alertly at her truck. There was someone in the passenger seat, someone tall and covered entirely in dark clothing and a hood that hid their face. Carlos’ gut clenched with cold dread and he looked away from the truck quickly as Cecil scrambled out of the cruiser.

"Elder Josie!" She stood and he threw his arms around her, lifting her up into a bear hug. She hugged him back and whacked the back of his head until he put her down, then looked Carlos up and down as he walked up. "This is Carlos! He’s tutoring --"

"I know about your boyfriend." Her voice was like gravel and Carlos stood still as she circled him, poking and prodding as she went.

"We’re not dating," Cecil protested as his father greeted the woman and then unlocked the front door. He didn’t once turn his back to the truck, even as he ignored it completely. "Are you staying for dinner? Carlos and I are going to make enchiladas."

"Not dating?" The look Elder Josie gave them was incredulous. "You’d be good for each other. I suppose I can stay. I came over to talk with your father, but if food’s involved … Erika can stay in the truck."

Cecil had gone a bit pale and backed into the house, nodding. “Dad needs company. I mean, I doubt he wants to hang out with teenage boys _all_ the time.”

"There’s more than enough, if Erika wants --"

Erika shifted her attention to them at the mention of her name, a mention she shouldn’t have been able to hear, and Carlos got a cane to the back of his leg as cold terror washed over him. “We don’t talk about Erika,” Elder Josie warned him. Her voice was hard and Carlos started to shake from the attention. “Ignore Erika and get inside.”

"Uh, sorry." He hurried inside and Elder Josie closed the door and locked it, looking him up and down again with narrowed eyes. "Uhm."

"Didn’t you tell him, Cecil?"

"I tried," the boy called from the kitchen. He was putting things away and making room on the counters. "He doesn’t think Erika exists."

Elder Josie harumphed and made her way to the couch, sitting next to Mr. Palmer. Carlos took the lettuce from Cecil and looked down at him. He was still pale, but wasn’t shaking. “What’s wrong? Why do we have to ignore … you know?"

"I’ll tell you later," Cecil murmured. He turned sharply and hugged Carlos, resting his cheek on Carlos’ chest. "Please, just trust me."

"Ok, ok. Whatever you want." Carlos pushed him away as quickly, yet gently, as he could, and turned to the food. "All right, open the refried beans."

Cecil followed directions easily, and his mood gradually lightened until he was laughing again and trying to convince Carlos to feed him the ice cream he’d picked out. It wasn’t until after dinner, when Carlos and Cecil were curled up in his bed as Carlos read Cecil’s new book out loud and Cecil ate his ice cream, that Carlos realized they hadn’t done any studying. Mr. Palmer hadn’t said anything, though, and Carlos figured he was just glad for Cecil to have a friend over. Carlos had silently handed him the book he’d been reading, too, and Mr. Palmer had just looked at it for a moment before taking it with a nod.

"Is Elder Josie staying over?"

Cecil had been nodding off, head against Carlos’ shoulder. He blinked slowly. “No. She’ll go home.”

"I thought no one was allowed outside after dark."

Cecil looked up at his window, then at Carlos. “The wendigo like her. That’s … we call them Erika. It doesn’t attract their attention as much if we call them Erika. They don’t hurt Elder Josie.”

Carlos set the book aside and frowned. Cecil’s delusion was a serious one, but …. the fear that the person in Elder Josie’s truck had caused him … He shook his head. “Ok. Fine. Let me up; I need to sleep.”

"Uhm …" Cecil grabbed his arm and squeezed it, looking down as he bit his lip. "Would you mind … staying here with me? I just … they give me nightmares. I usually get in with Dad when I have a nightmare, but … but last time, with you, after you got in with me I didn’t have any, and maybe you being here with me will keep them from happening at all … I mean, you don’t have to. I just …"

His feet were going to hang off the edge of the bed. Carlos sighed and scooted down, turning on his side to face Cecil before twitching the glittery purple net canopy above the bed around them. Cecil snuggled down, too, smiling up at him, and then turned over and curled up in a ball. That let Carlos curl around him so his feet weren’t hanging off the bed quite so much. Carlos stretched one arm out and Cecil rested his head on it, and draped the other across Cecil’s chest. “Are we good?” he murmured.

Cecil shivered a bit and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

"No problem."

~~~~~

The next evening, there was a young woman in the construction site’s office trailer when Carlos went in to clock out and get his paycheck. She was Latina, much lighter than Carlos, and the only real description he could think of for her was 'pagan fertility goddess.' And 'voluptuous.' She was stunning in flawless makeup, with round cheeks and big brown eyes, blonde-streaked brown hair, a short skirt over her broad hips and thighs and a low-cut blouse over her equally broad bosom. He wasn't quite sure how her bra held all of her in and up, in fact. She was sitting in a chair against the wall and smiled warmly at him as he tried to figure out how her bra worked without obviously breaking several laws of physics. Carlos gave her a quick nod and smile as his boss -- a friend of the family -- stood up.

"Carlos! There you are. You remember my niece, Maria, right?"

He took Carlos’ timecard as Carlos frowned. “I … don’t think so.”

"My sister got married last year. You were at the wedding."

Carlos thought a bit, then shrugged. A lot of people had been at the wedding. “Oh. Right. How are you?”

"I’m okay." She looked him up and down -- dirty and sweaty and exhausted -- and smiled again. "You look good."

"Uhm. You, too." Was she blind?

"Maria’s boarding school is on break," Eduardo broke in. It was more of a meander, actually. Carlos wasn’t the most talkative on his _good_ days. "She’s visiting for a month or two. Enrique was saying he didn’t want his little girl to be too bored, and your mother --"

"They want you to take me to your prom," Maria interrupted. "And babysit me so I don’t run off and have sex or do anything fun. It’s an all-girls school," she explained at Carlos’ blank look, then stood up. "So. Want to be my boyfriend for a couple of months?"

"No."

Eduardo started to berate him, but Maria just threw her head back and laughed. Both men stared at her. She wiped her eyes after a moment and took Carlos’ arm with a grin. “Come on, Carlos. I’ll take you home. Buy you some ice cream or something. ‘Bye, Tío Eduardo!” He grumbled at them as he handed Carlos his paycheck -- strictly under-the-table, since Carlos was only sixteen -- and as soon as they were out the door and out of earshot, Maria sighed. “Look, apparently you’ve got a gay friend and your parents want me to keep you straight. I don’t care if you are or aren’t,” she told him when he tried to protest. “I _do_ care that my parents are essentially pimping me out. I’m _not_ happy about it. So look,” she went on as she stopped them at a shiny new Camaro and finally looked at him, “just take me out a few times -- I’ll pay -- and take me to your dance, and maybe sneak me in one morning so your parents can catch you sneaking me back out. We can text a bit after I go back to school, then let it die out once your parents are convinced you’re straight, or you get a real girl. Deal?”

His parents _had_ been making noises at how much time he and Cecil had been spending together. Maria _did_ have a book on quantum physics in her car. Carlos nodded. “Sure. Can I borrow your book?”

She grinned as they got in. “Sure. No sex, though. You’re not a bad-looking guy, but --"

"I don’t want to have sex," Carlos assured her. "I’m trying to graduate early. I’m too busy. You’re pretty, but …"

Maria was nodding. “Sex doesn't take that long, actually, but good. I mean, I’m not _completely_ ruling it out, but we _did_ just meet.” Then she started talking about her physics class and they chatted until they got to Carlos’ house. Maria waved at him as he got out. “See you tomorrow!”

“‘Bye.” She drove off and Carlos braced himself as he walked into the house. Juana was curled up in a quietly sobbing ball on the couch, so he ignored his mother as she waited for him and knelt by his sister, smoothing her hair out of her face. “Hey, _mija_ ,” he whispered. “I got you chocolate and painkillers.” Juana’s sobs got louder as she took the bag he handed her, and Carlos sighed as he kissed her cheek and stood up. His mother pulled him into the kitchen and grilled him about Maria, and only grudgingly let him shower once he’d answered a few questions. There was a Wal-Green’s bag with several boxes of condoms in it sitting on his bed, and Carlos shoved it into the bottom drawer of his desk. Of course his father would do that. Well, _Carlos_ had no need of them. Maybe Cecil would take them, so long as Carlos was sure to make it _very_ clear that they weren’t a personal request. He’d do it one or two at a time, so if his father snooped, he’d think Carlos was actually using them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, there's smut! Holy shit, really? This soon? Wow. Yep. That's some smut, that is. Heeeeee~~~~ :3 :3 :3

Maria was watching him with a grin. Carlos didn’t like it when she grinned at him like that. It meant she was going to start teasing him, or make an observation he wasn’t comfortable with. She was intimidating. Then again, girls in general intimidated Carlos. People, really. But mostly girls. And maybe attractive guys, if he thought about it too hard. He concentrated on not spilling food on himself as he ate, and didn’t look her in the eye. He was fairly certain that girls could sense fear, and that making eye contact would make them strike.

"So." Carlos couldn’t help but glance up at her, then lowered his head again immediately. "You think I’m cute?"

He’d learned how to answer that sort of question. It wasn’t a shrug, or a muttered ‘sure,’ but an immediate and solid, “Yeah. You’re really cute.”

She leaned forward, giving him a clear view of her cleavage. Carlos had learned to take an obvious look and then look away. Breasts were fascinating from the standpoint of not having his own to investigate, but that was about it. “Wanna make out later?”

No. No, he didn’t. Carlos flushed and almost dipped his face in his soup, he hunched so low. “Uh … sure.”

"Jesus, Carlos. You could at least _pretend_ to be enthusiastic about making out with me. Look at me!" He obeyed. "I’m fucking gorgeous! Who _wouldn't_ wanna tap my sexy fat ass?" She sighed heavily. "Boy, you need so much work."

"I’ve never dated anyone before," Carlos blurted in his own defense. "I’ve never kissed anyone before you, I’ve never had sex … Is it ok for me to be a bit nervous? I mean, I just went from my parents threatening to kill me if I ever had sex to them throwing a girl at me and hoping I will. It’s a bit of a paradigm shift, you know."

She didn’t look convinced. “Well, all right, but really. Don’t act like it’s such a chore.”

"Your face is a chore," Carlos muttered.

Maria threw her napkin at him as she laughed, and he smiled, too. A couple hours later they were sitting in her car outside of his house, kissing as she took one of his hands and placed it firmly on her breast. Carlos almost pulled back in surprise, but she had a good grip on his hair and held him still. He took the opportunity to explore a bit. Logically, he knew breasts were soft. Anything made up of that much fatty tissue was going to be soft and pliable, and Maria had fatty tissue in abundance. He didn’t find them as appealing as other guys, but they were still interesting. At least she smelled good. That made Carlos laugh and he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Maria’s neck as he giggled and gently squeezed her breast. She started giggling, too, then sighed and tilted her neck back when he kissed it.

"You’re a dork," she whispered. "Ooh, yes. Do that. Nipples are good. Oh, God …"

"And you’re the dork making out with me," he replied. "May I …?"

He’d moved his hand to the hem of her shirt, and Maria laughed. “You're the first guy to _ask_ if he can put his hand up my shirt. Yeah, go for it.”

Her skin was soft and the space between her breasts was warm. Carlos ran his thumb over her nipple again and she whined a bit. “Well, it’s only polite. I’m not a jerk.” Maria just laughed and moved his head lower, until he was pulling the neck of her shirt down and kissing the tops of her breasts. She was ticklish on her sides, he discovered -- which was a good thing, because as fascinating an experiment as this was, Carlos really wanted to get inside and open up the chemistry kit he’d ordered. Maria squealed and started wriggling around, slapping at him as she laughed.

"You asshole! Knock it off!"

Carlos pulled back and grinned at her. “Stop being so ticklish, then. I got a new chemistry kit. Wanna come see it?”

She groaned and covered her eyes. “Please let that be a euphemism for your penis.”

"Uh, no. That’s … that’s an awful euphemism for a penis." Carlos sat back and Maria rolled her eyes at him.

"Ok, fine, but we’re making out some more when we get inside. If we’re lucky, your parents will catch us."

Carlos snorted as they got out of the car. “Right, and then they’ll call the priest to make us get married right away. Kissing makes babies, didn’t you know?” He took her hand as they walked up to the door, and his mother glared at them suspiciously once they were inside. “Uh, hi, Mom. Uh. Maria’s going to come look at my … chemistry kit.” They both burst into laughter and his mother just grumbled at them as she picked up some toys. Maria pushed him and they hurried upstairs, giggling the whole way.

"Oh, God. You’re terrible, Carlos."

"You started it! ‘Please let that be a euphemism,’ Jesus, Maria." Carlos pulled the kit out and set it on his desk. Maria, despite her protests, was as interested in science as he was, and knelt on his bed to watch him. "Let’s see if we can make meth with this."

"Your parents would probably prefer that to you having a gay friend. Let’s do it. Is this your book?" She was looking at the book about gender, and Carlos shook his head.

"No. Can’t you feel the gay emanating from it? It’s Cecil’s."

Maria flipped it open. “Oh, that’s _his_ gay, not yours. Got it.”

Carlos glared at her. “I’m not gay, and stop saying stuff like that. My parents are already suspicious enough.”

Maria just stuck her tongue out at him and then pulled him in for another kiss.

~~~~~

"I heard you got a date to the prom." Carlos almost laughed. Cecil was trying _so_ hard to keep his crush under control, but right then he sounded _so_ incredibly miffed. He wasn’t looking at Carlos, and his entire body just _screamed_ jealousy even to Carlos, who sometimes had difficulty interpreting social cues.

"Yeah. My parents still think you’re infecting me with the gay."

"Don’t I wish," Cecil muttered.

Carlos cleared his throat and reached into his pocket for the condoms he’d brought to school. “And, uh, look. This is _not_ for personal reasons, ok? I don’t have _any_ use for these, is all. Ok?”

Cecil glanced at him with a frown. “Uh, sure.”

"Good. Dad left these on my bed. You can probably actually use them." Carlos looked around the hallway, then handed Cecil two condoms. Cecil’s eyes bugged out. "Maria’s mad that her parents are pretty much pimping her out to make sure I’m not gay. Neither of us wants to have sex. So …"

Cecil’s eyes narrowed and he just looked at the offered condoms, then at Carlos. “You think I need condoms?”

"I think you’ll need them long before I will," Carlos explained. "If I don’t have at least _one_ Ph.D. by the time I’m twenty-six, I’m going to be upset. That doesn’t leave room for sex."

"Sex doesn’t take as long as you seem to think it does," Cecil snorted. "You’re not trying to tell me I’m a slut?"

"I don’t _care,_ Cecil." That was a lie. "I just didn’t want these to go to waste, and I want my parents off my back. Do you want them or not?"

Cecil finally grabbed the condoms. “Sure. Thanks. I’ve gotta get to class. See you after school!”

Then he sauntered off, whistling cheerfully. Carlos tried not to think of who Cecil would use the condoms with as he headed the opposite direction. It was fifth period when he realized he’d left his calculus book in the locker room. It had his homework in it, so he excused himself to go get it. The locker room was empty and the book was where he’d left it on the bench, and as soon as he grabbed it, he heard a soft moan and a thump.

Carlos froze. The moan and thump repeated. He knew what was happening -- it wasn’t the first time anyone had had sex in the locker room, after all. He turned to go.

Then, “Fuck, you little slut.”

"I may be a slut," Cecil replied, stopping Carlos in his tracks, "but _you're_ the one who begged me to blow you."

"Shut the fuck up and keep sucking," was the angry reply.

Carlos should have walked out. He should have. He knew that.

So, naturally, he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Carlos had stopped doing the logical thing when it came to Cecil a while ago. He went the opposite of out and crept forward until he could see Cecil and the other boy -- a football player -- up against the lockers. The guy was facing the lockers with Cecil on his knees in front of him, thrusting into Cecil’s mouth as he gripped Cecil’s long black hair. The thumping was Cecil’s head hitting the lockers behind him each time the other boy -- Mike, Carlos remembered -- shoved against him hard enough.

Cecil didn’t seem to mind. Now that Carlos was closer, he could hear the quiet sounds of pleasure he was making and see Cecil jerking himself off with one hand, the other gripping Mike’s ass. He didn’t seem to mind Mike calling him a bitch while ordering him to turn around, either -- he got up in a hurry and turned, hiking his skirt up while spreading his legs and bracing himself against the lockers, his panties around his knees. Carlos bit his lip and clenched his fists, more turned on than he thought he’d ever been as Mike pushed himself into Cecil, who whined and pushed back against him. He didn’t seem to care that Mike was shoving his face into the lockers, he just gasped and rolled his hips as Mike pumped into him. Carlos bit back his own moan and turned around, fleeing the locker room as Mike turned Cecil’s face and kissed him roughly. The bathroom was mercifully empty and he locked himself in a stall, undoing his slacks, disgusted at how quickly he came, disgusted that he’d watched Cecil and Mike, disgusted that _that_ had turned him on, disgusted at himself in general. He cleaned himself up after catching his breath, then washed his hands in scalding hot water before slinking back to class, trying not to cry with rage, disgust, and yes, desire.

"Someone hid my book," he muttered as the teacher gave him and the clock pointed looks. His anger at himself worked in his favor, convincing Mr. Midorikawa that he’d spent half an hour looking for the book. He pulled out a week's worth of homework and handed it over.

"Take your seat."

Carlos did, glaring at his desk. He was ahead of the class, so it wasn’t as if he _needed_ to be paying attention, but the scene playing on repeat in his head was _not_ what he wanted to be distracted by. And he had to tutor Cecil that afternoon, too. Fuck.

"If you’re not feeling well, Mr. Garcia, go to the nurse," Mr. Midorikawa finally sighed. "Go. Now. This won’t affect your attendance."

Carlos packed his things and left. The nurse just pointed to an empty cot for him to lie down on and left him alone after giving him some painkillers. He lay there and hated himself until the bell rang, trudged his way to his last class, and was sent right back after he’d turned in his homework. He was miserable. He hadn’t thought Cecil would be the type to have sex at school. The way Mike had treated him seemed downright abusive. Carlos knew some people liked rough sex, but he couldn’t imagine being _that_ rough with someone -- certainly not someone as sweet and delicate as Cecil. Maybe it was how Cecil was dealing with his mother’s death. Carlos didn’t think he could look at the boy again after this -- not today, at least. But he needed the money. But the look on Cecil’s face as he’d serviced Mike, the way his head had fallen back and his lips had parted as Mike had fucked him …

"You look terrible. Want to call off for today?"

Carlos groaned, his face buried in the cot’s flat pillow. He shook his head.

"Well, don’t get me sick. Are you coming?" Pushing himself up, Carlos wondered how many of Cecil’s various tardies had been due to him sneaking off to have sex. Judging by the familiarity of Cecil’s general air, a lot of them were. Cecil was watching him as they walked out of the school. Carlos was trying not to act as flustered as he felt. "You need a girlfriend," he finally commented, staring up at the sky.

"What?"

"You. Need. A. Girlfriend. Look at you. I know sexual frustration when I see it, and you’re it. Get laid. You’ll feel better."

"I don’t need to get laid," Carlos snapped. "Leave me alone."

They didn’t talk after that, unless it pertained to school. Finally, though, Cecil propped his chin in his hands and sighed. They’d been working for two hours, after Cecil had showered. “Want to tell me why you’re mad at me?”

Carlos glared at him. “I’m not mad at you.”

"Bullshit. You’re fucking _pissed_ at me, Carlos, and I’d like to know why." When Carlos didn’t reply, Cecil narrowed his dark eyes and let out a slow breath. "Ok. Let me take a guess. You left your textbook in the locker room," and Carlos looked at him in guilty shock, "aaaaand you went back to get it, say, around fifth period." Cecil tapped his chin as he watched Carlos carefully. "And you came across something that _really_ upset you. Something that was, might I add, _absolutely none of your business._ " He leaned back, hands folded behind his head, and just _watched_ Carlos. "So go ahead. Yell at me. Tell me how wrong and awful I am. But whatever you do, _stop_ being so pissy."

"You’re not awful," Carlos snapped as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I don’t think you’re awful." He shoved himself up and paced around the small trailer, gesturing wildly in frustration. "I think you’re a fucking _idiot_ for doing that shit _in public, at school,_ where you could get caught."

Cecil kicked his legs up on the table, completely unconcerned. “Oh, _do_ go on.”

Carlos whipped around. " _Why,_ Cecil?! Why would you let him call you those things? Why would you let him … he made you … _He wasn't gentle!_ ” he finally wailed. Cecil let his head fall back, watching Carlos’ distress with a bored expression. “You let your father hit you, you let Mike … treat you like that, you, you …” Carlos knelt by his friend and grabbed two fistfuls of his skirt, tears running down his face as Cecil watched him blankly. “Why, Cecil? _Why?!_ ”

He knelt there, chest heaving, staring up at Cecil. Cecil looked up at the ceiling for a few moments before dropping one hand into Carlos’ hair, gently massaging through his curls. Carlos flinched, but waited. As Cecil’s fingers against his scalp relaxed him, he gradually calmed down, his sobs easing into sniffles and his tears drying slowly. Finally, he lowered his head and rested it against Cecil’s thigh, staring dully at the ruffles on his skirt.

Only then did Cecil speak. His voice was calm and low, soothing. “My relationship with my father has nothing to do with my sexual proclivities. _Nothing._ ” His grip on Carlos’ hair tightened until Carlos sucked in his breath, then relaxed. “I do _not_ want to have to say that again. Is that clear?” Carlos nodded. Cecil’s voice warmed just slightly. “Good. Now, who is in charge, here?”

"What?" Carlos tried to look up, but Cecil’s grip tightened and he stopped resisting. Cecil was quiet, waiting. "… You?" he guessed.

"Good," Cecil murmured. "Who is calm?"

"… You."

"Who is collected?"

Carlos sighed. “You.”

"Who is the sobbing mess on the floor?"

"… Me," Carlos whispered.

"Good." Cecil stroked his hair and Carlos sighed again. "Right now, _I_ am _entirely_ in control here. _You_ don’t say a _word_ unless I give you permission. Clear?" Carlos nodded. "Good." His nails raked gently across the back of Carlos’ neck, and Carlos sucked his breath in and bit his lip gently as it sent tingles down his spine. "I’m flattered that you care so much about my well-being, dear Carlos. I truly am. However, you’re failing to take into account the possibility that I _liked_ how Mike was fucking me. You’re failing to consider that he was doing _exactly_ what I wanted him to do. You’re not thinking that _I_ was in _complete_ control of what was happening. Did you hear him call me a slut?"

There was a sharp tug and Carlos answered him a hurry. “Yes.”

"Aside from it being completely true, did you hear what I told him?"

"Yes."

"What did I tell him?"

Carlos was hard at the memory and squeezed his eyes shut. " _He_ was the one who begged for it,” he whispered.

"That’s _right,_ " Cecil murmured warmly. He sounded proud of Carlos. "And that’s because _I_ decide who fucks me, _I_ decide how, and _I_ decide when and where we fuck. _I_ am in control of _everyone_ I fuck. _You,_ beautiful, _wonderful_ Carlos, have _no_ idea what you walked in on. And you didn’t bother _asking_ before you jumped to _severely_ misguided conclusions. Well-intentioned conclusions, but misguided nonetheless. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Are you sorry you peeped?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to jump to conclusions again?"

"No."

"Are you going to tattle?"

"No."

"Confront Mike?"

"No."

"Did it turn you on?"

"Yes."

Carlos pulled back in shock at his own admission and that pulled Cecil off the chair and down with him. He ended up straddling Carlos’ hips and sighing in pleased surprise, shifting firmly against Carlos’ erection.

"Oh, God, _Carlos_ …"

"Cecil, no --"

Carlos struggled to sit up and Cecil shifted back, but they tipped over and then their mouths were on each other and their hands were grasping at hair and shoulders and hips and clothes and Carlos loved -- _loved_ \-- the feeling of Cecil between his legs, rocking against him, his hands pushing Carlos’ shirt up and off, Carlos’ own hands grasping Cecil’s upper thighs and lace-covered rear and pulling them hard against each other, gasping as Cecil bit his neck and then sucked on it.

Cecil rolled them over so that Carlos was on top and he sat up, Cecil’s fingers digging into his chest and probably leaving red marks, suddenly unsure as Cecil watched him with swollen, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. They looked at each other for a long moment before Cecil spoke. His voice was as rough as gravel.

"If you want to keep going, then keep going."

Carlos’ brain was catching up with him and he crossed his arms over his chest self-consciously. Cecil, who had been toying with his nipples and making his back arch, immediately dropped his hands to Carlos’ thighs as he waited. Finally he sighed.

"Have you and Maria had sex yet?"

"N, no." Carlos was still trying to figure out what to do, how they’d ended up like this, and if he should really be rocking even gently against Cecil’s erection.

"Have you done _anything_ with her?" Carlos nodded once. Cecil took a deep breath. "What did you do? Did you enjoy it, like this?"

"I, I’m not --"

"Not gay, I know." Cecil nodded and the frustration with Carlos’ sexual confusion he must have been feeling wasn’t showing. He was, in fact, smiling just slightly. "Neither is Mike. None of the guys I fuck are gay. They’re all straight as arrows. I’m just a couple of willing holes that can pass for a girl. Look at me. I’m _very_ pretty." He may or may not have been mocking Carlos. He sat up and leaned forward, kissing Carlos firmly. Carlos didn’t kiss him back, but he didn’t pull away, either, and when Cecil did, he kissed right below Carlos’ ear and whispered, "Let me blow you, Carlos." Carlos bit back a whine and tensed. Shivers ran down his body and Cecil kissed him again. "Let me suck you off. It doesn’t mean you’re gay. It means you need it and I’m willing. Nothing else -- just my mouth, your dick, your orgasm." Cecil was kissing along his neck and jaw and Carlos curled his fingers into his hair as his hips reflexively jerked forward.

"Oh, God …" Cecil was sucking on his earlobe and Carlos groaned, hands clutching at his back.

"Please, Carlos. Let me do _something_ for you. You need it."

Carlos didn’t answer, just gripped Cecil’s back and hair, buried his face in Cecil’s neck, and rocked tentatively, consciously, against him. Cecil’s breath hitched and he placed one hand on the small of Carlos’ back, the other in his hair. He wasn’t pushing Carlos -- he just rested his hands on him and continued to gently kiss and bite his neck, letting Carlos set his own pace.

They rocked against one another for a few minutes before Cecil, again, whispered shakily in Carlos’ ear. “I want to blow you _so_ bad.”

Carlos pressed his lips to Cecil’s, hoping to shut him up, but the touch of their tongues sent shocks through him and he pulled away with a gasp, and instead of running out the door in a logical manner, he nodded. “Please,” he whispered.

Cecil kissed him again, hard, before pushing him up as he grinned. He grabbed Carlos’ belt loops and pulled him close, biting his lower lip and then sucking on it as he guided Carlos backward to his bedroom. He was undoing Carlos’ belt before the door was even closed. Carlos started to tighten his arms around Cecil’s waist, but Cecil hit his knees smoothly, pulling Carlos’ pants and boxers down with one hand while the other moved Carlos’ grasping hands to his hair. Carlos almost cried when Cecil grasped his erection firmly, kissing from the tip to the base and then licking his way back up. His hips jerked forward and Cecil chuckled, squeezing as he looked up at Carlos with heavy eyes and parted lips.

"What do you want?" he whispered.

His breath was hot on Carlos’ flesh. Carlos tilted his head back as he shuddered. Where to start? “I don’t know.”

"Mmm …" Something cool touched him and Carlos looked down, but it was only Cecil unrolling a condom onto him. He looked up at Carlos with a grin. "Tell me when you want me to stop."

Then he took Carlos into his mouth and Carlos’ knees almost buckled. The pressure of Cecil’s lips and tongue, the occasional scrape of his teeth, the warmth of his mouth, the way he used his hands … It was better than every dream about it that Carlos had had, and he was a groaning mess in moments, shoving one hand into his mouth to keep quiet. That just let him hear Cecil’s own moans of pleasure, and it was only when he looked down again that he realized Cecil was holding still, hands gripping Carlos’ rear tightly as Carlos thrust into his mouth.

Mike had treated him the same way and Carlos gasped. “Cecil, no, I --”

Cecil immediately pulled back, dropping his hands to the backs of Carlos’ knees. “Do you want to stop?” He was panting, eyes unfocused and mouth halfway open as his lips trembled.

"I need to sit. Mike --"

"Cecil, actually, but call me whatever gets your dick back in my mouth," Cecil replied as he turned Carlos around and pushed him onto the bed. He knelt between Carlos’ legs, resting Carlos’ knees over his shoulders as he smiled. "Are we good, now?" Carlos covered his eyes with one hand as he nodded, reaching down with his other hand to run his fingers gently through Cecil’s hair. "Good. Be as rough as you want. I like the pain." Carlos cried out as Cecil went back to work. His intention clearly wasn’t to get Carlos off as quickly as possible. He would get him close, then back off, even to the point of kissing along Carlos’ inner thighs and whispering about how much he loved Carlos’ cock, sometimes biting the tender skin gently. It wasn’t until Carlos was begging, pulling Cecil’s head down almost as hard as he could while thrusting up into Cecil’s mouth, that Cecil let him over the edge.

Carlos’ back arched off the bed as he shouted. Cecil held his hips, still working at him even as his mind started calming. The consistent pressure sent extra shocks through his system and he panted and shook with each one. Cecil hummed lightly when Carlos finally started going limp and slid up next to him, holding him tightly and kissing his temple as he gently ran his hands over Carlos’ body. Carlos sighed and stared up at the ceiling with one arm around Cecil’s shoulders, trying not to cry as a lifetime of guilt came crashing over him. Don’t have premarital sex. Don’t be gay. Being gay was the worst thing a person could be, the worst thing he could do to his parents. He was going to Hell and he wasn’t even sure Hell existed.

"Shh, shh, you’re ok," Cecil whispered lovingly in his ear. "You’re wonderful. Beautiful. gorgeous. Amazing. You did fantastic, sweetie. You did awesome. I’m proud of you." He punctuated his soothing words with kisses and caresses, and after a few minutes Carlos finally calmed down, exhausted as he lay in Cecil’s arms. Cecil managed to get a blanket over them and continued to touch Carlos gently. After some time of silence, he stroked Carlos’ cheek lightly. "Are you ok?"

Carlos nodded, eyes closed. Cecil kissed his cheek.

"Are you ok with what just happened?" Carlos shrugged, and Cecil suddenly sounded concerned. "Carlos. Hey." He tilted Carlos’ head up. "Look at me, please. _Carlos._ " He finally opened his eyes and Cecil was frowning slightly, purple lipstick smeared. Any other time, it would have made Carlos laugh. "Honey, did I do _anything_ you _didn't_ want me to do?" Carlos shook his head and the tension in Cecil’s body eased slightly. "Ok. Did you _like_ everything that I did?" Carlos had to look away as he nodded. "Ok. You wanted me to do what I did. You liked it." He was quiet as he thought, then, "Is this a religious thing?" Carlos heaved a sigh and nodded, and Cecil sighed in return. "Ok. The sex part, the sex with a guy part, or both?"

"… Both."

"Look, honey … you’re on your own with the sex part, but as for it being with a guy, a guy sucking your dick doesn’t make you gay. _You_ sucking someone _else's_ dick doesn’t make you gay. _Fucking_ doesn’t make you gay, no matter which of you is sticking it in. Your body reacts to stimulation. That’s all this was. You couldn’t wait until you could bang Maria, and I was convenient. I’m _always_ convenient," he said in a lower vice, placing a finger on Carlos’ lips to keep him quiet as he looked up, "and I like it that way. If a guy’s got a need, I’m there for him, no questions asked. All I require is the use of condoms. Hell, a couple of girls have snuck in there, too." He gently stroked Carlos’ hair. "Ok? You’re not gay. I’m just easy."

"You always talk badly about yourself," Carlos protested faintly.

Cecil laughed and kissed his nose. “When? When I call myself easy? Convenient? A slut? When did I say that I thought those were _bad_ things? I’m not ashamed. I like sex. I get to have a lot of it. I’ve pretty much got my pick of partners. Why would consensual sex be a bad thing?”

"It is if you’re Catholic." But he had a point, and Carlos sat up as Cecil watched him, hair mussed beyond all belief. He looked amazing, and Carlos looked away. "I … can I shower?"

"Sure."

Carlos escaped, leaving his pants and boxers on the floor, and when he was done with his shower Cecil was back at the kitchen table, Carlos’ shirt draped over a chair, going over his notes. Carlos pulled his shirt on and sat down awkwardly.

Cecil smiled at him. “Ok, so, mixing these two chemicals here …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/). So go follow it because it's amazing. :D :D :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **If you paid for White Flag illustrations, please contact me immediately.**
> 
> There's, uhm ... more smut.

Maria’s lips were as soft as Cecil’s. Her breasts were also soft, and her bra was pretty. Carlos was still fascinated by her breasts, and she definitely enjoyed him playing with them. They’d gone out after Mr. Palmer had dropped him off, and had gotten back late; now they were sitting on his bed with Maria in his lap, her shirt and pretty bra on the floor as she guided Carlos’ mouth from hers to her breasts. She’d offered to touch him, but he’d insisted that he just wanted to concentrate on her, learn what made _her_ happy.

Maria had almost tackled him when he’d said that. Carlos had been glad to follow her directions, hoping to enjoy Maria as much as he’d enjoyed Cecil. She took one of his hands and moved it between her legs, pressing his fingers against her damp panties. Carlos followed her lead and broke their kiss to watch her. She seemed to be less able to be quiet than Cecil or even himself, but her cries and moans varied in pitch and rhythm, letting Carlos know what she liked most, and she _really_ liked it when he slid his fingers under her panties and rubbed his knuckle up and down until he brushed against her clit. Then she cried out so loudly that Carlos jumped and covered her mouth with his free hand, looking at his closed door with concern.

"Shh," he warned her. "My parents are still up."

" _Fuck,_ " was her reply as she ground against him. Carlos giggled. Maria laughed, then turned so she could lay on her back and pulled him down next to her. "Keep going," she whispered. "You’re doing great. Kiss me."

So Carlos did. He kissed her, and he touched her, and he slid his fingers into her when she wanted him to, and while it was a very educational experience, it did absolutely nothing for him on a mental or emotional level. Physically, it did, and Carlos was certain that that had _nothing_ to do with comparing this experience to Cecil.

Maria finally pulled his hand away and slid her panties off before she straddled his hips, unbuttoning his flannel shirt as she squirmed against him with a grin. “Wanna fuck?”

Carlos shrugged. “Ok.” He swallowed and sat up to take his shirt off. “Uhm … I’ve never …”

Maria had gotten his pants undone and laughed. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s ok -- I’ll do all the work. Do you have condoms?”

"In the bottom drawer." He pointed to his desk.

"Good. Take your pants off."

He did, pulling his comforter over himself as she found the condom packs and raised an eyebrow. “We have your dad to thank for the supply?” Carlos nodded. “I thought so. Do you know how to put a condom on?” He shook his head and she sighed. “Ok. Come here. Open this.”

She got back in his lap and kissed him again, reaching between them and stroking him until he’d gotten the condom open. He was panting by that time, and Maria carefully showed him how to unroll the condom onto his erection, then pushed him back until he was laying down. Carlos held still as she guided him into her and sank down onto him with a soft moan. He kissed her when she leaned down, sliding his hands over the curves of her body as she started to rock against him.

"Are you ok?" she whispered.

"Y, yeah." It felt _weird._ "Do you want me to do anything?"

"I’ll let you know."

So Carlos continued to do as he was told, touching and kissing her when and where she wanted him to, rolling over when she wanted him on top, and imagining the teasing Cecil would put him through if he’d seen how awkward Carlos was. He wondered what it would be like to be looking down at Cecil from this angle, to have Cecil’s legs around his waist, Cecil’s arms around his back, to be pushing into Cecil’s body.

It was the wrong thing to think. Carlos could suddenly think of nothing _but_ that afternoon, not just of Cecil and Mike but of Cecil’s large brown eyes staring up at him, of the way his mouth and hands had felt, the _sounds_ he’d made …

Carlos came with a groan, face buried in the crook of Maria’s neck as she whimpered and dragged her nails down his back. He pulled back and kissed her before she pushed at his shoulders. He sat up, looking down at himself, still inside her, and she snapped her fingers by her hips.

"Eat me," she ordered shakily. Carlos looked at her in confusion and she rolled her eyes. "Lick me. Put your face between my legs and lick my clit until I come. _Now._ "

Carlos didn’t waste any more time, sliding down the bed and getting right to work. He knew what she’d liked with his fingers, and tried to imitate that with his tongue, following every order she gave until she was crying out so loudly that Carlos was _sure_ his parents were going to burst in. He didn’t like the way she tasted and his jaw was getting sore, so he experimented and slid a finger inside of her. Maria almost screamed and grabbed his hair tightly, raising her hips up and pushing his head down, begging for more. Carlos obliged, and by the third finger pressing into her, Maria was shaking and whining as she orgasmed. The way her muscles tightened around his fingers was fascinating, and Carlos didn’t pull away until she pushed at him.

"Oh, God," she groaned as he slid up next to her. "Oh, _God._ "

Carlos held her like Cecil had held him, and let her wipe his mouth with his blanket. He made sure they were both covered, then made a face and reached down to remove his condom. He tossed it into the trash beside his bed, then settled back down. Maria sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, running her free hand over his chest.

"Well, how did you like it? You lasted longer than I thought you would."

"Uh, thanks? It was nice. Did you … was I …"

"You’re _such_ a bad liar," Maria laughed before kissing his neck. "You can use some work, but yeah, you were good. I like that you’ll take directions and not argue."

"I’m not lying," Carlos protested.

That made her snort. “Carlos, there’s ‘nervous virgin who doesn’t know what to do but still wants it,’ and then there’s you. I’m surprised you even got it up.” She leaned up to kiss his nose. “But ok, I’ll believe you. I liked it, you liked it enough, we’re good. Just make sure that your girl _always_ comes before you, and if she doesn’t, go down on her until she does. Don’t _even_ hesitate.” Carlos nodded. “Good. You learn to go down on a girl right and you may never have to fuck another one in your life, and the fact that that interests you does _nothing_ to convince me that you’re straight. Good thing _I'm_ not the one you need to convince. Don’t worry, hon. Your parents will stop worrying about your sexuality.”

"They never _had_ anything to worry about," Carlos said testily, "… but thank you."

She kissed his neck, from right below his ear to the hollow of his throat, and hummed. “Don’t mention it. Come on, let’s shower. We don’t have to fuck again if you don’t want to.”

She got up and pulled him out of bed. Carlos shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

Maria laughed and knelt to grab another condom. “Yep. _Definitely_ not what a straight guy would say.”

~~~~~

Maria was sitting at the kitchen island while Carlos made them breakfast when his parents came down the next morning. She was laughing as she teased him about how poofy his hair had gotten, and greeted his parents brightly.

"Good morning! We studied late, so I made Carlos sleep on the floor and I took the bed. It was about two before we realized how late it was. I’m _so_ sorry about that."

"Here we go." Carlos turned around and brought the skillet over, dishing some out for himself and Maria. She tilted her head up as she thanked him and he kissed her.

"Good," she whispered when he pulled back.

He didn’t quite meet his parents’ eyes. “I made enough for everyone.”

"How sweet," his mother said flatly. "Go wake up your sisters."

Carlos set the skillet down and went, and his father followed him, stopping him halfway up the stairs and turning him around. He was scowling. “Don’t you _dare_ get her pregnant, Carlos.”

Carlos groaned. " _Dad,_ I --"

His father grabbed his arm tightly. “Shut up. Listen. _Don't get her pregnant,_ because _if you do,_ you _will_ marry her and you _will_ support her and the child and that _will **ruin**_ your chances of getting a good education. _Do you understand?_ ”

Carlos pulled away and scowled. “I was fine with not dating, Dad. If you and Mom hadn’t thrown her at me, Maria and I wouldn’t even _know_ each other. I’m not going to knock her up. Thanks for the condoms.” He walked off and woke his sisters up, then herded the sleepy girls down to breakfast.

Maria was friendly right up until they got in her car to take Carlos to work. Then she rolled her eyes and made a face. “Please don’t leave me alone to get blowjob advice from your mother _ever again._ ”

"Did she threaten to make you marry me if you got pregnant? Dad was adamant."

"She did. Don’t worry -- I’m on the Pill, and we will _always_ use condoms. _Always._ And if something _does_ go wrong, well, Daddy’s insurance covers abortions and _he_ doesn’t want me to have a kid, either, so we’re safe in any case."

Carlos looked at her sharply, then nodded. “Good.”

"Let’s go out tonight. I want to see a movie. I’ll pay."

"I don’t want to use you for your money," Carlos protested.

Maria laughed. “Oh, honey. Your mom’s been putting extra money in your account so you can take care of me like a real man. Besides, it’s not going to do me any harm. I’m getting good sex out of the deal. I think we’re even.”

"Great, so I’m a prostitute, now."

They pulled into the construction site and Maria leaned over and kissed him. “Just think of yourself as a kept man.” Carlos laughed and got out. “See you tonight!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil and Maria meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Carro](http://goddess-in-green.tumblr.com).

They were at Big Rico’s, waiting for their pizza, when Maria’s eyes widened. “Wow. That’s one confident kid.”

Carlos turned and went cold, then hot, as Cecil waltzed in the door. His neon yellow and green cropped shirt fell off of one shoulder, showing off a hot pink bra strap, and his oversized cargo pants were loosely held up by a rainbow belt, slouching low enough on his hips to reveal both the trail of dark hair that started just below his belly _and_ the tops of panties that matched his bra. He was laughing, ignoring the stares and silence, and then his father walked in, in uniform and with a scowl, and _everyone_ found something better to do. Neither seemed to notice. Cecil was chatting away, then turned expectantly to his father. Mr. Palmer wasn't paying any attention; he just looked right over Cecil's head -- an easy feat, considering he towered a good foot or more over his son.

"Dad! Dad, are you listening?" Mr. Palmer looked around at that, but not down, then shrugged a bit. Cecil stamped his foot and clung to his father's arm, trying to get his attention, but Mr. Palmer never looked at him. "Daaa _aaa_ aaad! Stop ig _nor_ ing meee!" Cecil huffed as Carlos swore he saw Mr. Palmer's lips twitch. "I know you can hear me! I'm not _that_ short! Daaaaaaaaaaaad!"

Carlos laughed despite himself, and, in a fit of apparent insanity, waved them over. “That’s Cecil and his dad.” Cecil’s face lit up and he pulled his father over to them.

" _Carlos!_ How are you? Is this Maria? Hi, I’m Cecil. This is Daryl, my dad. Wow, you’re _gorgeous._ Can we join you?" He slid in next to Maria and beamed at her, his speech a bit garbled. "No, really. You are _stunning._ "

Maria was blushing as Carlos made room for Mr. Palmer. “You didn’t say he was _charming,_ Carlos. _Or_ good-looking. Yeah, I’m Maria. I’m the one keeping Carlos straight.”

She and Cecil laughed as Carlos flushed. “Oh, sweetie, believe me, I’ve _tried_ to turn him. It’s just not possible. Wow. Can I play with your hair?”

"I’ll get the pizza," Mr. Palmer rumbled as he stood up.

"Love you, Dad!" Cecil called out after him. He turned and his new lower lip ring caught the light, giving the reason for his speech being off.

"Of course," Maria answered him. "I _love_ my hair being played with."

"So do I," Cecil crooned as he turned back and sank his fingers into her wavy hair. He didn’t look at Carlos, but the way Carlos started and flushed, he may as well have announced the previous afternoon’s activities to the entire building. "Oh, wow. Let’s have babies. We’d have beautiful babies, and they’d be _smart,_ too. Carlos told me you’re _very_ smart."

"Carlos knows what to say to keep me in his bed," Maria laughed, and they both looked at him with smiles.

Carlos covered his face. “Can we _please_ keep _some_ things private?”

"I’m glad he’s a good boyfriend."

"Aren’t you not allowed off the reservation after dark?" Carlos asked quickly. He didn’t know if Cecil was upset with him for how he’d reacted after … after, and didn’t want to remind him and give him the chance to get angry.

"Pfffft." Cecil shrugged, holding his hands palms-up. "We’re staying in a hotel tonight. Early birthday present. It’s _great._ See my new piercing? Are we interrupting a date?"

"Yeah, but it’s ok." Cecil draped an arm around Maria’s shoulders, and she looked him up and down. "Wow. _I'd_ tap you if I was a guy, gay or not."

Cecil had shifted into full flirt mode, toying with Maria’s hair and brushing his fingers across her cheek, his other hand holding hers on the table. He leaned toward her with a downright sultry smile that Carlos knew well. " _Well,_ ” he murmured, “if Carlos doesn’t mind, that could be arranged. I may be gay, but I’ve made a few exceptions before. I could do it again.”

They were nearly kissing, and Carlos slid out of the booth. “Look, if you two want some alone time, just say so. I feel like a third wheel on my own date.”

He stalked off as they laughed at him, and found Mr. Palmer outside, smoking a cigarette as he waited on his order. He shifted to let Carlos lean against the wall next to him. “Don’t play that game, Carlos.”

"What game?"

"Cecil tells me everything. _Everything._ " Of-fucking- _course_ he’d told his father. Carlos pursed his lips and clenched his fists as he tried to stay calm. Mr. Palmer wasn’t looking at him. "Don’t sleep with both of them if they don’t both know and don’t both agree to it. _I don't care_ what you two do," he said sharply, glaring down at Carlos as he tried to say something. "I _care_ that Cecil didn’t set proper boundaries yesterday, and _you_ didn’t know any better. I _care_ that Cecil’s let himself believe that you will be like every _other_ boy he fucks around with. I _care_ that my son is _willingly letting himself get hurt_ over a boy who has _no clue what he wants._ I told you before -- if you’re _not_ interested, tell him. If you _are_ interested, _tell him._ And now let me add this." Mr. Palmer put both hands on Carlos’ shoulders and leaned down to look him in the eyes. "If you are _confused_ as to what you want -- _and you are_ \-- then figure it out _away from Cecil_ and come back when you _know._ Cecil doesn’t need your sexual confusion."

Carlos shook his head stubbornly. “I’m not gay.”

" _Bullshit._ " Mr. Palmer squeezed his shoulders so tightly that Carlos cried out in pain. "You and I _both_ know that _that_ is _bullshit._ Do _not_ hurt my son _any more_ with your inability to stand up to your parents and your religious upbringing."

He turned and stormed back in to Big Rico’s and Carlos started swearing as soon as the door shut. He rubbed his shoulders and kicked at the ground, shaking with anger. He was angry at Cecil for telling his father, but at the same time he should have known that it would happen. He was angry at Cecil for doing exactly what he’d wanted him to do, what he’d asked for. He was angry at himself for wanting it in the first place. He was angry that he’d had to think about Cecil in order to enjoy sex with Maria. He was angry at his parents for pushing her on him.

At least she and Cecil were getting along.

Panic flooded his chest at the thought, and what they could be discussing, and Carlos ran back in to find them chatting as Mr. Palmer read the book that Carlos had bought for him. Both pizzas were on the table. Carlos sat back down and forced a smile.

"Welcome back." Maria pushed a slice at him and he took it. "You ok, honey?"

He nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

"We’re going to have, like, ten kids," Cecil informed him cheerfully. "You and Maria will get good-paying research jobs, and I’ll stay home with the babies."

"Why am _I_ supporting _your_ kids?"

"Because there’s going to be _ten_ of them," Cecil explained, "and you’re going to marry Maria. Your parents will think they’re yours."

Carlos pursed his lips. “Not when they come out half-Native American.”

Maria waved him off. “They’ll be so happy to have grandkids, they won’t even notice.”

"I think you’re both crazy." A foot brushed against his and he frowned. Both of them just smiled. Another foot brushed against his calf. He tucked his feet under the booth seat and their smiles got bigger.

"It’s possible for twins to have separate fathers," Maria informed him. "As long as _one_ looks like you, they’ll just blame Cecil’s on genetics. They’ll trust us. We’ll be scientists by then."

"We’re _sixteen,_ " Carlos protested. "Talk to me in ten years. Better yet, don’t. I don’t want kids."

" _You're_ sixteen," Maria corrected him. "Cecil and I are seventeen -- or close enough. And I’m not waiting ten years to have kids."

"Good luck, then. I’m not having any part of it."

"He’s _so_ easy to get flustered," Maria giggled.

Cecil nodded. " _So_ easy.”

"Are you going to prom?" she asked.

Cecil nodded. “Yeah. Vithya said she’d go with me.”

Carlos frowned. “The exchange student? She’s a girl.”

Cecil gave a patient sigh. “I know, honey. We were hanging out and I tripped face-first into her crotch. Figured I’d have a snack while I was down there, then figured I could at least take her to prom in return.”

The horrified expression on Maria’s face as she looked from Cecil to his father made Carlos grin. It was petty, yes, but he didn’t care.

"Uhm … you mean …"

Carlos grinned even wider as he watched Maria’s discomfort. “I tripped, fell into her lap, ate her out, then asked her to prom.” Mr. Palmer sighed and raised his book a bit.

"You know, my dad pays for my condoms and birth control, but we don’t _talk_ about it."

Cecil laughed. “Like I told Carlos, Dad can’t _stop_ my slutiness, he can only make sure I’m a _safe_ slut. I am too a slut,” he said as Carlos started to speak. “I have a lot of sex with a lot of people. I’m _very_ promiscuous, and I like it. Stop trying to … do whatever you’re trying to do. Save me from myself or whatever. It’s not a self-esteem issue, it’s an I- _really_ -love-dicks issue. Didn’t we talk about this already?”

"Sorry," Carlos mumbled.

They moved on to other topics, and Carlos’ mood gradually improved. Cecil was extremely witty. He had Carlos and Maria almost in tears before long, retelling them stories from his radio show and mixing in personal observations on society and humanity. He had a strong sense of social justice, and it was twenty minutes in to a conversation on immigration reform that Carlos noticed Maria was gone. He looked around sharply.

"She’s outside," Mr. Palmer assured him, motioning for Carlos to let him get up.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. She’s got the car.” Mr. Palmer walked off and he and Cecil were alone. Carlos was suddenly nervous and cleared his throat, looking around at everything _but_ Cecil. “Uhm … You told your father.”

"Hmm? Told him what?"

Cecil was going to be difficult. Carlos frowned down at the table. “About yesterday. What happened.”

"What _did_ happen yesterday?" Cecil asked. "As far as I recall, we studied and Dad took you home. Did anything else happen?"

He was giving Carlos the opportunity to pretend that nothing had happened, and Carlos lunged at the chance. “No. Nothing else happened.”

"No," Cecil agreed softly, "it never does. I think Maria wants to go."

Carlos stood. “Yeah. Uh … thanks.”

Cecil nodded, staring at the ceiling. “No problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil's birthday, and I'd be lying if I said there was no smut involved. Also, Ricky and Jose, who are amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Carro](http://goddess-in-green.tumblr.com).

“Hey! Hey, kid! Come here!”

Carlos ignored the two heavily-tattooed men sitting outside the Safeway as he walked in. He may have lived a sheltered life, but he knew gang tattoos when he saw them, and the two men -- one Latino, one black -- were covered in them. He hoped they’d be gone by the time he was done. He didn’t want to be pulled into gang politics, or even be seen talking with a gang member. His mother would never let him leave his room if she found out.

It was unfortunate, then, that he’d only stopped in to get Cecil a birthday present. He had no idea what his friend would want, other than Carlos himself and a lot of lube and condoms to go with him, and he was bad at getting gifts, anyway. He and his father both were. They tended to give gift cards, on the basis that the person receiving them was _sure_ to get _exactly_ what they wanted that way. His mother called them uncivilized and rude. They continued to give gift cards.

Carlos killed time by buying a soda, first, and drinking it as he stared at the gift card selection. Cecil didn’t have a computer, much less an iPod, so an iTunes gift card was out of the question. He’d mentioned he’d always wanted to go to Gino’s, but Carlos didn’t want to get anything that suggested a date or a romantic relationship, so a restaurant gift card was likewise crossed off the list of potential gift cards to get. Cecil liked books, so a bookstore gift card might be appreciated. Then again, his radio equipment probably needed work, so …

“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing a generic gift card and heading to the register again. Cecil could buy what he wanted with it. Carlos didn’t realize until the cashier rung him up and he’d paid that he’d gotten a hundred dollar gift card. He debated returning it for a cheaper one, but remembering the look on Cecil’s face when he was able to buy even a magazine or used book without having to borrow money stopped him. Cecil deserved nice things. So he just smiled at the cashier and went on his way, stopping dead in his tracks when the two gang members were waiting for him outside.

The Latino one grabbed his shoulder and held him at arms’ length as he froze in panic, looking him over with narrowed eyes. “Naw, he’s Mexican.”

His companion stood on Carlos’ other side, and tugged on his hair. “No, look at this afro, man. He’s black.”

They argued for a few more minutes before Carlos managed a small whimper, sure he was going to die, at which point the Latino man finally looked at him. “Hey, calm down, kid. We ain’t hurtin’ you. So, you Mexican or Latino?”

His friend shook his head and pinched Carlos’ nose. “No, you’re black. Right?”

Carlos’ hands were sweaty and he was shaking like a leaf in the breeze, but he managed to stutter, “I, I’m both.”

Both men stopped arguing and stared at him. “ _What?_ ” the black one finally spat out.

“I, I’m both,” Carlos repeated. His voice was more than a little shrill. “I, uhm, my mom’s family’s from Haiti and Brazil, and my dad’s are from Guatemala and Mexico. I’m, I’m, I’m --”

They let him go and high-fived each other. “Aw, shit, we were both right,” the Latino one said. They grinned at him. “What’s your name, kid?”

“C, C, Carlos.”

“Oh, come on, Jose, he thinks we’re gonna kill him. Don’t you?” Carlos squeezed his eyes shut and gave a few small, quick nods. He got another laugh for his efforts. “Shit, son, we’re not gonna hurt you. We just wanted to know what you were. I’m Ricky; this asshole’s Jose.” Carlos let out a breath and started to relax when they stepped back. “Hey, you’re not a fag, are you?” Then made him panic all over again and he shook his head quickly, stammering and stuttering in denial. Ricky sighed and handed Jose a wad of cash. “Well, damn. My cousin’s a fag.” Carlos’ jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out. “We thought you might hook up with him if you were, too, you know? You sure you’re not a fag? You sound like one.”

They weren’t going to kill him. Carlos was still frozen in place, but relief was slowly making a cautious path through his system. They were looking at him expectantly and he shook his head again. “I’m sixteen,” was the only reply he could think of.

“Oh, right.” They nodded like that was the perfect reason for apparently sounding gay. Ricky pulled out a pack of cigarettes and took two out, handing one to Jose, and then offered the pack to Carlos. “You smoke?” Carlos shook his head. “Don’t start. Disgusting habit.” That didn’t stop them from lighting up anyway. “Damn. Didn’t think it would be this hard to find a guy for Tyrone, man. I was sure this kid was gay.”

“I’m _not gay,_ ” Carlos repeatedly frantically. “Don’t you have anything better to do that take bets on kids outside of Safeway?!”

He regretted the frustrated, fearful words as soon as they left his mouth, but Ricky and Jose just started laughing, and Jose spit on the ground. “Shit, kid, you think we’d be out here if we did? Ricky’s on parole and I’m keeping him out of trouble. Fucking boring-ass shit, right there. Damn.” They went back to the display lawn chairs they’d been sitting in, the price tags still hanging off of them, and Jose blew a smoke ring at Carlos. “We’ve seen you around, kid. You got some cute sisters. You take real good care of them, it looks like. Where you go to school?”

“I, I don’t think --”

“Shit, we already said we’re not gonna hurt you,” Ricky snapped. He rolled his eyes as Carlos jumped. “Kid sees some tattoos and thinks we’re gonna kill him. Damn.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlos whispered. He was getting light-headed and might have been starting to hyperventilate.

Ricky just waved him off. “Yeah, whatever. Go on, run home to your mama, Carlos. See you around.” He turned back to Jose. “So, I’m tellin’ you, there’s no _way_ she knows it was me. I used cash and paid some kid to drop them off at her place. You sure this’ll work?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jose replied. “Bitches loves this romantic shit. Trust me.”

“If you say so …”

Carlos didn’t hear the rest of their conversation, because his father had pulled up and honked to get his attention. He turned and fled to the safety of their car, leaving Ricky and Jose to argue about how to best impress a woman.

~~~~~

The birthday party was mostly adults. Carlos hadn’t bothered asking his parents if he could go -- it was Friday, anyway, and by this time they were used to him having to stay over at Cecil’s. For as worried about his sexuality as they were, they were surprisingly unbothered by how often he stayed over. The most they pestered him about it was a few questions about what had gone on, to which ‘studying’ was the only reply he ever gave. And it was mostly true. Mostly. Carlos spent most days shaking with the effort it took to not lean over and kiss Cecil, or take his hand, or touch him. If Cecil noticed -- and there was no way he didn’t notice -- he didn’t say anything.

Cecil was dancing around the bonfire his father had built, wearing the tiara and pink and green tutu with bows that he’d been wearing all day. He’d taken off his matching silk blouse to reveal a sleeveless, see-through purple top as soon as they’d gotten out of the cruiser. Carlos had helped set up the tiki torches that surrounded the gathering and kept the darkness at bay. Elder Josie had shown up with her possibly-mythical-cannibal friend again, and again Erika-the-maybe-deadly-wendigo stayed in the truck. There was also a young man about their age there, who stood out even more than Carlos. He had blond hair, blue eyes, freckles, and nearly paper-white skin, and if Cecil hadn’t been ignoring him, Carlos would have been bothered by the adoring looks he was giving the birthday boy. This, apparently, was the Earl that Cecil had been seeing just for the sex.

"Carlos! Dance with me!" He tried to protest, but Earl was looking like _he_ was going to offer to dance with Cecil, so Carlos let himself be dragged up. The music wasn’t a hard beat to follow, and anyway, all he really had to do was put his arms around Cecil’s waist and maybe twirl him once in a while. He didn’t necessarily have to hold Cecil so tightly, or sway their hips together, either, but he did anyway. The food had been good, Cecil had liked the gift card Carlos had gotten him, the fire was warm, Cecil smelled and looked amazing, and it was easy, so easy, to forget the adults and Earl, to just exist with Cecil and the music.

Carlos wasn’t sure how they ended up behind the mobile home, Cecil pressed tightly between it and Carlos, one leg around his waist, his hands tangling through Carlos’ hair as they kissed. He was wearing stockings and an honest-to-God garter belt, a fact Carlos had discovered when he'd slid one hand up Cecil’s thigh, lifting him up so their hips pressed against each other. It was one of the most erotic things Carlos had ever encountered -- not that he’d encountered many, and Cecil accounted for roughly ninety-nine percent of them, but still. He hiked Cecil’s leg higher on his waist as they rocked against each other, groaning into Cecil’s mouth. Cecil moved his hands down the back of Carlos’ pants, squeezing his ass and panting as he kissed down Carlos’ neck. He bit it firmly and Carlos’ voice cracked as he cried out, pushing harder against Cecil and sliding his own hands under Cecil’s panties. He was pulling them down as he messily kissed Cecil again, moving from his mouth to his jaw and down his neck.

"Oh, God, Carlos, not here, not here, sweetie." Cecil was whispering, shifting so they could get his panties off, reaching down to grab them before they fell off his ankle and shoving them into Carlos’ back pocket before pulling at his belt. He was trembling as much as Carlos was, but that didn’t stop him from getting Carlos’ pants undone enough to reach in and pull his erection free, and Carlos made a very undignified, high-pitched noise when he did. He was honestly expecting another blowjob, but Cecil pulled their hips together again and the feeling of their erections rubbing against one another made Carlos choke. He bit Cecil’s throat hard enough for Cecil to cry out in actual pain and push his head away, but it was just enough to kiss him again. Carlos let his hands wander over Cecil’s body, over his chest and around to the small of his back, holding him up against the side of the mobile home, finding a steady, if hurried, rhythm. Cecil’s breath huffed with each thrust, and his kisses got longer and deeper, until it felt like he might just swallow Carlos whole.

"Oh, God." Carlos’s knees almost buckled as he came, with Cecil following him with a soft keen, nails dragging down his back and sure to leave welts that Carlos was going to have a hell of a time explaining to Maria. He let Cecil down and they clung to each other for a while, wobbly-kneed, until they regained their balance and had caught their breath. Then Carlos looked down at the messes they’d made on Cecil’s admittedly very pretty tutu and swore softly. "Shit. I’m sorry, I --"

He was kissed, which shut him up, and Cecil’s smile was lazy and smug. “Leave it.” His voice had dipped down low, which always made Carlos’ stomach flutter. He nuzzled Carlos’ neck with a contented sigh. “No one will notice. I like --” He stopped himself and laughed softly, arms still around Carlos. His eyes were shining strangely bright in the soft light. “Are you ok? With this?”

He’d pulled a handkerchief from somewhere and was wiping Carlos off, redoing his pants for him. Carlos cleared his throat self-consciously as Cecil’s touches lingered. “With what?”

"Nothing. Come on, before they come looking for us. It’s light enough, and people are close enough, but I’d rather not push our luck any further."

He took Carlos’ arm and led him back to the party. Earl was glowering at the sight of them arm-in-arm but no one else seemed to notice. They were, in fact, being ignored until Cecil broke into the marshmallows, sitting close enough to Carlos that their thighs touched. That may have gotten slightly narrowed eyes from Mr. Palmer, but he seemed content to let them be. Earl kept trying to get Cecil to talk to him, but while Cecil wasn’t rude, exactly, it was _very_ clear that he wasn’t interested. Which was a pity, Carlos thought. Not that Cecil wasn’t interested, but that he was willing to ignore Earl to such an extent. He seemed like a nice guy, and Carlos understood how lovestruck he was. Cecil had that effect on people.

"Erika’s getting restless," Elder Josie finally stated. That was apparently the cue for the party to break up. The bonfire had died down, anyway, and it was well past midnight. Cecil was laying on the bench with his head in Carlos’ lap, hugging his knees as he drifted in and out of consciousness. "Come on, Duke. I’ll take you home."

"It’s Earl, Elder Josie," he said as he scrambled up.

Elder Josie shrugged. “All right. Hurry. Good night, Daryl, Carlos.”

Mr. Palmer stood up, closing his book. “Good night, Elder Josie.” Carlos tried to get Cecil to wake up enough to get inside, but all he got was a muffled laugh and tighter grip. “Just drag him inside by the foot.” Mr. Palmer reached down and grabbed Cecil’s ankle.

That made Cecil sit up quickly. “Dad! I’m awake! I’m awake!” He sounded a bit frantic, which made his father snort with laughter, and Carlos wondered about it until he got up and tucked his shirt in and his hand brushed against Cecil’s panties. Then he flushed and was thankful for the dim lighting and his dark skin. Right. That was why Cecil didn’t want to be dragged around. He licked suddenly dry lips and shoved the lacy things deeper in his pocket. Just touching them sent shivers along his fingers and spine. Cecil trudged toward the trailer. “Come ooooon. I’m tired.”

He didn’t seem tired, though, once they’d gotten in his bed. No, he was very much awake, giggling in the darkness as he slid his leg over Carlos’ hips and kissed his neck. His fingers danced along Carlos’ chest as Carlos closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure. He should have pushed Cecil away, but instead he pulled him closer, until he was laying on top of Carlos and they were kissing again. It was slow this time, unhurried. Cecil pressed kisses all over his face and body, murmuring with delight over everything that Carlos hated about himself. He was wearing just a short nightgown, and Carlos rested his hands on Cecil’s hips, pushing the hem up, holding Cecil still as he rocked his hips up. Cecil was whispering in his ear, soft noises and pleas and endearments. Carlos was torn between kissing him and letting the praise wash over him and finally settled for bits of both, sitting up and holding Cecil firmly in his lap, letting the shorter boy set his own pace, just enjoying the touch and sensations.

Their pants and gasps were the only sounds in the small room. At one point Cecil took out two condoms and watched Carlos as they both put them on, then knelt down between his legs and gave him a leisurely blowjob. Carlos kept his eyes open for that, watching the bobbing of Cecil’s head and the fall of his hair, soft moans forcing their way out of his throat at the sensations. It didn’t last for very long. Soon enough Cecil was kissing up his stomach and chest and crawling back into his lap, his lips never leaving Carlos’ skin as he took both their erections in one hand and jerked them both off. Carlos held him tightly through it, and when they were both spent, breathing heavily, pulled them both back under the covers and held Cecil tightly until they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice day with the girls.

"Are you ok, _mijo_?"

His mother put her hand against his forehead and Carlos leaned away irritably. "Yeah, Mom, I'm fine."

"Why don't you eat more?" She frowned at him, not just because he wasn't eating, but also because of his general attitude the past few weeks, he knew. He was grouchy and irritable with everyone, more prone to arguing and talking back -- things he'd never done before. Both of his parents were concerned. "You've hardly touched your food."

He stared down at his plate, shoulders hunched. "I'm not hungry." Anita and Alonsa started fighting over who got the last bread roll and Carlos stood up quickly, before he yelled at them. "I'm just ... I'm going to bed, ok?" Then he hurried out of the dining room.

"Carlos!"

He ignored her, thankful that his father was working late and wasn't there to yell at him. He flopped into bed and stared up at the ceiling. This thing with Cecil was getting out of hand. Carlos could barely concentrate on his school work, and was positive that he flushed with every mention of his friend. He wanted to hit Mike every time he saw him. He wanted to yell at Cecil for being around other guys. He'd snapped at Maria earlier, when she'd run her hand down his back. The scratches from Cecil's birthday were still there, and every reminder of them threw Carlos' emotions for a loop. Sometimes he hated Cecil. Sometimes he thought he was in love with the boy. Sometimes he never wanted to see Cecil again, and sometimes the need to just be in his arms was so great, it was only Carlos' lack of a car that kept him from going to Cecil's house and refusing to let him go.

He was on the verge of crying himself to sleep from sheer frustration when his door creaked open. There was a small giggle, then the foot of his bed dented in as one of the girls crawled up. Carols bit back his shaky gasps, and then there was another girl right by his head, picking up the covers to crawl under them. Someone else got in by his feet, and three squirming bodies trying to get in with him, get comfortable, _and_ not wake him up made Carlos laugh quietly. He shifted onto his side to give them more room, and pulled -- curly hair and size said baby Anita -- close, tucking her head under his chin. One of the others curled up at his back, and then he was pushed down so the last girl could lay across his pillow.

He laughed again, which prompted giggles from the girls. Then Alonsa whispered, "Can we make a fort?"

"I love forts," he whispered back. He sat up delicately, trying not to squish anyone. "Lenora, get the blankets and pillows from the hall closet. Don't wake anyone up. Come on, you two. Help me get my bed clear."

Alonsa and Anita helped him strip his bed to just the fitted bottom sheet. When Lenora got back, dragging blankets behind her, he quietly gave them directions and helped them position the pillows around the edges of his bed until they'd gotten the optimal design for a fort in place. It took a while -- Anita was three, after all, and not the most coordinated. Still, eventually they tucked the last blanket into place and admired their work for a moment.

"You did _so_ good," Carlos told them. "Look at that! It's the best fort in the world."

Lenora crawled inside. "It's so big!"

Carlos helped the younger two in, then followed them. "It's so we have more room. Come on, lay down. We need to go to bed. Ugh, why are you all so smart and adorable?"

"Magic?" Alonsa guessed.

Carlos chuckled as they settled in. Alonsa and Lenora lay on either side of him, his arms around them, and Anita lay on his chest. "Yeah. That must be it. My magical baby girls. I love you all." He kissed their heads as they whispered that they loved him, too, and eventually they all drifted off to sleep.

He slept well -- something that hadn't happened in a while, between extra school work, his job, and Cecil. Carlos just lounged for a while when he finally woke up, enjoying the warmth and closeness of his sisters. They hadn't spent much time together recently, and the sound of rain on his window made him smile. Rain meant no work. No work meant he just might be able to take the girls to a movie, or Chuck E. Cheese's. They'd like that.

"Hey," he whispered when he felt them moving around and waking up. "Who wants to see a movie?" The speed at which all three sat up made the fort tumble around them, and Carlos laughed as they were buried beneath blankets and pillows. "Oh, no! We're trapped! We'll never survive!"

"Nooooo," Alonsa cried. "We'll freeze to death!"

"Our food supplies are low," Lenora sighed. "We'll have to start eating someone."

Carlos guffawed at her matter-of-fact tone of voice, and pinched her cheek. "You're pretty meaty. We should eat you, first."

"No!" she protested. "Eat Anita first! She's small and useless!"

Anita hugged him tightly in alarm. "Don't eat me," she begged.

"Yeah, but she doesn't have much meat on her bones," Carlos reasoned as he hugged his youngest sister protectively. "What about Alonsa? Can we eat _you,_ Alonsa?"

"I'm an abomamamal snowman! You can't eat me! _I'm_ going to eat _you!_ " She snarled and growled and gnashed her teeth as Lenora and Anita squealed in mock-terror and Carlos laughed. There was a short scuffle under the covers as the snowman stalked her prey, and it ended when Carlos fell backward out of bed, Lenora on top of him, with Alonsa and Anita tumbling after them. "I broke my snowman!"

His door opened as he laughed, and they looked up at their scowling mother. " _What_ is going _on_ in here?"

"We're gonna see a movie, Mama!" Alonsa chirped.

Carlos got raised eyebrows and grinned. "Uh, I won't have work today. It's raining. I thought I could take the girls out, give you and Dad some alone time ..."

His mother frowned as her daughters got up and swarmed around her, begging and pleading. She finally sighed. "Fine, all right, all right. Take baths and get dressed, first! And eat some breakfast!"

"Yes, Mama," all four chorused, then Carlos herded them all into his bathroom. He ran them a bubble bath and helped Alonsa and Anita get undressed, getting them in the tub before turning his back so Lenora could also get undressed. She'd been getting more self-conscious about her body, lately. "Are we good?" he finally asked.

"I want my ducky."

"Ok. Stay here. Lenora, can you wash Anita's hair, please?" She reluctantly agreed, and Carlos left to get Anita's ducky. He passed Juana on his way back. She was still half-asleep. "Hey. Want to go see a movie? Mom said it was ok."

She blinked at him as she tried to process that information, then slowly shuffled forward and rested her cheek on his shoulder. Carlos hugged her. "Mmkay."

"Ok. Go wake up."

"Can we stay out all day?" Lenora asked when he got back to the bathroom. They were playing with each others' hair in the fashion of bathtime stylists everywhere, and Carlos smiled as he knelt to help Anita wash herself, handing her the ducky.

"We'll stay out until Mom and Dad want us to come home," he promised.

It turned into a good day despite the rain. By the time they had seen the movie and were wrapping up at Chuck E. Cheese's, Anita was ready for a nap. No one else wanted to go home, so it was back to the theater for another movie while Anita slept in Carlos' lap. They were at the ice cream shop when someone grabbed Carlos from behind.

"Hey, there's my best friend!"

Carlos turned with a grin. "Marcus! What's up?" He hugged his friend and made room for him at the table.

Marcus shrugged. "Not much. Hiding from Dad and his new girlfriend. Ugh. Can you believed he's dating her? She's awful. I hate her. What are you guys up to?"

"Getting out of the house. We saw a couple of movies, went to Chuck E. Cheese's, and now we're here."

"Hey," Juana said with a grin as she leaned toward Marcus. "Ten bucks says I can beat you at Time Crisis."

Marcus narrowed his eyes at her. "Yeah, no. I learned my lesson last time. I'll beat you for free, though." Juana snorted and they headed to the line of arcade games at the back of the shop.

"You're going to be sorry!" Carlos called after them. Ten minutes later Marcus was storming back to the table as Juana laughed at him. Carlos sipped his milkshake with a grin. "I told you so."

"Your sister's a cheater. And dresses like a boy."

"You're just a sore loser."

"Shut up and give me your milkshake."

Carlos laughed and pushed it toward Marcus as his phone buzzed. He picked it up. "Hey, Mom. Want us to come home? Can Marcus come over for dinner?"

"Ugh, that boy. Fine."

"Thanks! We'll be home soon. Love you!" He hung up and stood. "Well, if you want some of Mom's enchiladas, hurry up."

Marcus got up in a hurry. "You don't have to tell me twice. Thanks."

Carlos shrugged. "I'd rather not be around them without backup these days, anyway. I think Maria's coming over, too. You can meet her. Just don't hit on her or I'll deck you."

"It's not _my_ fault all my money drives the girls crazy." Marcus flashed him a grin as they got in their cars. "See you there!"

"Jerk!" Carlos yelled. Marcus just laughed as he drove off. Carlos laughed, too, before leaning down to make sure Alonsa and Anita were buckled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is best whiney friend? Marcus is best whiney friend.

Maria was sitting on the couch when they got home. She looked up with a tight-lipped expression, and Carlos took a deep breath before putting Anita down.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he told her. "I was ... It was wrong. I'm sorry."

He stood there and waited. Marcus peeked over his shoulder.

Maria sighed and got up, coming over to hug him. "Don't you _ever_ snap at me again," she ordered.

Carlos hugged her back and nodded. "Ok. Uhm. This is my friend, Marcus."

She narrowed her eyes at them, as if she thought they were joking. "Marcus."

"Marcus Vansten, rich and at your service." Marcus took her hand and kissed it with his most charming grin.

He dropped it when she just stared at him, then turned away. "Oh. I've heard about you. You're a real ass."

Marcus laughed. "Yeah, but I'm rich. So it evens out. She's pretty hot," he told Carlos.

"And will probably hit you if you don't show her some respect. I'll hold you down for her."

"I'm sorry, that sounds like more of a good time than a threat."

That made Carlos laugh, and even Maria giggled. "Shut up. My parents are home."

Marcus shrugged. "I'm just saying. Watch how you threaten people. Hey, Mrs. Garcia!" he called out as they went into the kitchen. Carlos' mother greeted them with a warm smile and hugged him. He didn't seem to mind his face in her bosom, only kissed her cheeks when she let him go. "How do you get more beautiful every time I see you? When are you leaving your husband for me?"

"Hah!" she chortled, waving a spatula at him. "You don't have what it takes." That was said with a pointed look at his crotch, and Carlos was torn between howls of laughter and mortification as Marcus stuttered, for once rendered speechless. "You all wash up. Dinner is almost ready. Did you have a good day, Carlito? Were the girls good?"

"Yeah," Carlos answered as they washed their hands in the sink. "We had fun. They were great. Anita got a nap, too."

"Good. You're such a good brother. You're going to be a great father some day. Don't you think, Maria?"

" _Mom,_ " Carlos groaned.

"Sure he will. Just not any time soon." For all her calm words, Maria looked as stressed as Carlos felt at his mother's not-so-subtle hint. Marcus was still sulking. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, you're so sweet. You three set the table, thank you."

They escaped to the dining room. "Your mom said I have a small dick," Marcus whined.

"Stop hitting on her, then. Ugh, she wants grandkids. She's got a three-year-old! Why doesn't she just have another, if she wants babies?"

"She'd have to take care of it," Maria pointed out. "Not so if it's a grandkid. Don't worry -- we're not having kids anytime soon."

"At _all,_ " Carlos corrected her.

"Right, because Cecil and I are having babies."

"You know that weirdo's gay, right?" Marcus asked.

"That's why I'm dating Carlos. To keep the gay away. So? We can still have kids. Have you _seen_ Cecil? Our kids would be _gorgeous._ "

" _We'd_ have pretty cute kids, too," he tried, grinning.

Maria huffed. "Sorry, I don't date walking egos."

"Ugh, shot down every which way," Marcus whined.

Maria leaned close to him with a grin. "Well, if it makes you feel better, Carlos and I may have some moonshine brewing in his closet. Stop being such a baby and we _might_ share it with you."

"Ho ho hooooo," Marcus chuckled. "I thought you were supposed to be a _good_ influence on Carlito."

"She's supposed to be an anti-gay influence," Carlos corrected him. "And don't call me Carlito."

"Yeah, how's _that_ working out?" Marcus asked slyly. Then he ducked the spoon Carlos threw at him, running to the kitchen to tell Mrs. Garcia as Maria and Carlos laughed at him.

~~~~~

Marcus was splayed out on the bed when Carlos finished his morning shower. He was sleeping, nice and warm, until Carlos pulled the covers down and rubbed his wet hair on his friend's chest.

"Wakey-wakey!" he cackled.

" _Jesus fucking Christ!_ " Marcus yelled as he threw his arms out wildly, trying to fight Carlos off. He managed a good whack to Carlos' chest as he struggled to sit up, and Carlos just howled with laughter as he fell on his ass. Marcus glared at him and yanked the covers back up. "What the _fuck,_ you asshole?!"

"It, it's time for church," Carlos giggled as he wiped tears from his eyes. "Are you coming with us?"

"Will the priest send you to Hell if I tell him what you did?" was the snide reply.

"Probably not. Come on, Marcus. Father Iglesias has been on an anti-gay kick, and if I have to be alone with that, I'm going to go crazy."

"Hey, I don't want to hear that shit, either," Marcus grumbled as he got out of bed and stretched. Carlos watched him out of the corner of his eye before turning to his closet. "But if it's church with you or home with Dad and that woman, sure, let's get all Jesused out." They took Marcus' car even as Carlos' parents grumbled about it. Juana grumbled, too, after being told she couldn't go with them and had to go with her parents. Marcus laughed a bit once they were on their way. "I think Juana likes me."

"Oh, God, stop," Carlos groaned.

"No, I mean it. She always wants to hang out when I'm over."

"She always wants to hang out with me and my friends. It's nothing personal." Marcus huffed to himself. "Look, I'm sorry that neither my mom nor my girlfriend want to fuck you, but stop. Let it go. Not everyone needs to want you."

"Says the guy with _two_ people after his ass. What's your secret?"

"Oh, God, if I knew, I'd tell you." They pulled up to the church a few minutes later, driving slowly through the throng of people to find a parking space. "You don't speak Spanish, do you?"

"My gardener does. Ow!" Carlos had punched Marcus' shoulder. "Jesus, man. Sorry. It's true."

"Well, everything that's not in Latin will be in Spanish. Try not to fall asleep. I'll translate when I can."

"You mean you're not a choir boy?"

"I was at our last church, but I got my job after we moved here and my folks let me opt out." They made their way inside while Marcus laughed, picking seats in the back so they could make a quick escape. Carlos whispered a rough translation as Father Iglesias spoke. "And there's the anti-gay rant. So much for the whole love-thy-neighbor bit right before it."

Marcus snorted. He managed to not fall asleep, however, even though he took off after the service, declining brunch. Just as well; Carlos had chores and homework to do. Maria and her uncle and his family came over, though, which was always nice. They had two little girls who were good friends with Carlos' little sisters, and Carlos smiled as he helped them build a pillow fort. Maria was helping, too, as the adults talked.

"You _are_ good with kids," she commented.

Carlos shrugged. "They're less complicated than adults are. No, put it the other way, Roberta. That's good. I mean, I get along with adults. But kids are easier."

"Prom's next weekend. Dad and your parents apparently agreed that we could rent a hotel room for the night." She lowered her voice, lips right next to his ear as he groaned. "I'm pretty sure they're hoping you knock me up so they can force us to get married."

"So, they're still afraid that I'm ...?"

"I don't know. I made it as obvious as I could that you were _very_ interested in me. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Mom was sixteen when she had me, so I'm not sure they realize that it's not really normal in America to start a family so young."

Maria snorted. "Immigrant parents. Blugh. Bless their hearts, but blugh." She sat back once they'd finished the fort. "How'd you get so good at this?"

"We lived in a one-room apartment until just before Anita was born. I had to get privacy however I could. Then we got a bigger place -- three whole rooms -- and then we moved here in September."

"I'm three," Anita, who had perked up at the sound of her name, stated. She held up three fingers before climbing into Carlos' lap.

He hugged her tightly and covered her face with kisses until she squealed with laughter. "Yes, you are. You're my baby girl."

She wriggled around. "No! Big girl!"

"Nope, my baby girl. No matter how big you get, you'll always be my baby girl." Carlos pinched her cheeks and then tickled her, which prompted a wrestling fight between all of them as Anita shrieked and her sisters and friends leapt to her rescue. Carlos was eventually overwhelmed and lay on the floor, laughing, until the adults came back in. They looked serious, so he sat up. "Is everything ok?"

"It's fine," his father answered. He seemed preoccupied. "The girls are staying the night. It's time for bed."

Carlos gathered everyone up, exchanging frowns with Maria. She ended up staying over, too, and they sat on his bed as Carlos brushed her hair for her. "Was that weird? My parents and your aunt and uncle?"

She nodded, one knee held against her chest. "Yeah. Has anything happened?"

"Not that I know of. Then again, they don't tell me anything. Maybe Abuella or Abuelo are sick?" He bit his lip as his gut clenched with worry for his grandparents.

Maria turned around and hugged him tightly. "I hope not. I'm sure everything's fine. They were probably just trying to figure out how to keep you straight."

They got under the covers and Carlos pulled her close, nodding. "Yeah, probably."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wooo, here be sexin's in this chapter! Also a school dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Carro](http://goddess-in-green.tumblr.com).

"Oh my God, Mom, _really?_ "

"Just one more picture. Then you two can go. Oh, you look _so_ handsome, Carlito ..."

Maria squeezed his arm in sympathy as his mother raised her camera again. "I thought you said dances were dens of lust and debauchery."

"Lust and debaujerry, lust and debaujerry!" Anita chanted as she and Alonsa danced around them in their best princess dresses. They'd been heartbroken to learn that _they_ weren't going to the prom, but Carlos and Maria had spent a half hour dancing with them in the living room, and all had been forgiven.

"Shush, you see what you teach your sisters?" His mother scowled and Carlos rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go. Be at church tomorrow! Don't stay up too late!"

They were already out the door. "'Bye!" Carlos shouted over his shoulder. "Love you!" He leaned forward once he was in the car and rested his forehead on the dash. "She's going to make me go to confession tomorrow. I don't want to have to lie to the priest."

Maria snorted. "Why not? I lie to the priest all the time. There's no way in hell that I'm going to tell some crusty old man how many blow jobs I've given since my last confession. Or ever. Confessing sins to other people -- _especially_ celibate old men -- is creepy, and I refuse to do it. Let go of your Catholic guilt, hon. It makes life much easier when you do."

Of course he was going to lie. His parents thought he was a good and obedient son, and therefore didn't make him go to confession that often. And, up until recently, he hadn't really had anything _to_ confess. Up until recently, Cecil hadn't been in his life. Up until recently, Carlos had managed to rationalize away certain attractions and feelings.

Up until recently.

"Hey, there's Cecil! Hey, Cecil!"

Maria flagged him down as they waited in line, and his face lit up at the sight of Carlos in a suit. For his part, Carlos was dumbstruck at the sari Cecil was wearing. It was a deep purple with lavender dots, trimmed in a reddish-bronze and gold, pleated and draped around his body. Lavender designs also graced the end of it, which was draped over his left arm, his right shoulder exposed and begging for kisses all the way up his neck, past the gold and purple necklace he wore, around his matching earrings. Cecil's hair was down and curled at the ends, and his lips and makeup matched the purple of his sari. He was absolutely breathtaking.

"Hi," he said shyly.

"Uhnfffff ...." Carlos replied intelligently. Breathing. Breathing was necessary for survival. Difficult at the moment, but necessary.

Cecil flushed and twisted slightly, bashful under Carlos' stare. He fluttered his eyelashes and gripped the silk of his sari rhythmically, lips slightly parted as he watched Carlos.

"Jesus, get a room, you two," Maria laughed. "You must be Vithya. Hi, I'm Maria. You look so gorgeous!"

The two girls started chatting as they waited in line, and Carlos swallowed nervously when Cecil dropped behind them to wait with him. "Uhm. You look --- How do you get away with wearing girls' clothes to school? I mean, you don't even wear the uniform." There. That was a safer subject than talking about how Cecil looked at the moment.

"I'm two-spirit. Officially. Dad had to get a letter from the President and Council. I, uhm ... I used to wear the uniform. Then I wore the skirt to school one day, and Principal Garmond flipped out. Called Dad, sent me home, gave me detention, almost expelled me. Dad was furious. I've always worn feminine clothing, so it wasn't a surprise for Dad or anything, and he just tore Principal Garmond to shreds over it. I didn't hear it -- Dad doesn't yell when he's angry -- but after their meeting was done, I was allowed to wear whatever I wanted. So I do." They'd gotten inside, and he and Carlos followed the girls to an empty table. Cecil bit his lower lip gently and flicked his gaze between Carlos and the floor. "Uhm ..." He giggled nervously as Carlos watched him and tried not to show just how badly he wanted to kiss him. "Maybe ... Well, I'm in a dress and all ... Maybe we could, uhm, dance, later?"

Carlos' heart thundered in his chest and he clenched his hands as they trembled. Cecil looked so nervous, asking for one small thing. He never assumed anything -- not that Carlos wanted him, not that they would be ... together ... in any way, nothing. It was always as if he hardly knew Carlos. He was so willing to let Carlos dictate the pace and nature of their relationship and associated activities, and that was when Carlos' conscious mind caught up with his deeper thoughts and put a stop to that line of thinking.

He sighed and shook his head. Before he could give any sort of explanation for denying what they both knew they both wanted, Cecil flashed a brilliant smile and took Vithya's arm. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, then led her to the dance floor. Maria just shook her head and rolled her eyes at him.

"Should have danced with him. He's not going to wait around for you forever."

Carlos was regretting his decision, but stuck by it. He didn't need to be seen dancing with Cecil. "I don't really like to dance. If you want to, though ..."

"Naw, you sit here and be an idiot. I can dance on my own."

She sashayed off, finding Cecil and Vithya and joining them. Carlos watched them, first glumly, then with a smile. Cecil was enjoying himself, twirling around and around as he laughed, shaking his hips and shoulders when Vithya taught him and Maria how to dance like they were in a Bollywood movie. All three ignored the stares and whispers from a handful of students, where Carlos would have shied away in embarrassment. He envied them their sociability. He laughed to himself when one of the football players, who had transferred the week before, when Cecil had been Celia (and how he got the teachers to go along with his gender fluidity, Carlos didn't know), eased up to the trio and behind Cecil. He was in for a big surprise. Cecil started a bit, but grinned at the guy and swayed back against him. The player hadn't noticed the flatness of Cecil's chest yet, and clearly didn't realize that the students sniggering around him were laughing _at_ him, even Mike Sandero. Carlos watched them dance and wished he could be so naïve, then stood up when the guy turned Cecil around and slid one knee between his legs.

"What the _fuck?!_ " He jumped back like he'd been scalded, pushing Cecil away. Carlos had reached them by that point and caught his friend as he stumbled. "You're not a girl!"

The crowd of students around him burst into laughter at that, and Cecil, who had turned and put his hands on Carlos' chest for stability, grinned. "Wanna know why I fuck Mike and let him be an ass to me?" he whispered quickly.

"Yeah," Carlos replied.

The guy was still swearing when Cecil turned and flipped his hair over his shoulder. He looked the guy up and down, eyes half-lidded, biting his lower lip gently. "Oh," he purred, "only sometimes. Do you _want_ me to be a girl?"

"I'm not a fag! Get the fuck away from me, you freak!"

Cecil shrugged. "Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it. You're not _really_ my type, but if you ever wanna try dick, just let me know."

The guy howled with rage and threw a punch at Cecil, who didn't try to duck. Before Carlos could pull him out of the way, though, the guy's hand froze. He snarled and turned sharply to Mike, who had grabbed his wrist. "Let me go! I’m gonna kill him!"

Then he howled again, in pain this time, as Mike twisted his wrist sharply. He hit his knees as the crowd gasped. "Leave the fag alone," he rumbled. Carlos blinked in surprise as Cecil leaned back against him and grinned. "He's not worth getting in trouble over." The guy started to say something and hissed as Mike's grip tightened. "Leave. Him. _Alone._ Or Coach will find out and you won't play on the team."

There was a moment of resistance before a couple of other guys stepped forward, clearing their throats pointedly and glaring at him. That decided it. "Ok, ok, just let me go, man," the new guy whimpered. Mike glared down at him for another moment before releasing him, and he got up and backed away, cradling his hand and glaring at everyone.

"Thanks, Mike," Cecil cooed, giving him his best smile. Mike just gave him a hard stare before turning and walking off. Then Cecil turned back to Carlos as the crowd, bereft of the fight they'd hoped for, dispersed. "Any protests, now?"

Carlos shook his head as he suddenly understood a lot about Cecil's promiscuity. Protection. Cecil fucked Mike -- let him verbally abuse him, let him be as rough as he wanted -- because Mike kept the bullies at bay. If the others guys who had stepped up were also partners of his, it explained why Cecil had so many. He knew who the closeted gay guys were, and if he fucked them and kept their secrets, they would keep him safe.

It was a good strategy. Carlos felt like a complete ass for judging Cecil without knowing the full story.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize --"

Cecil was moving to the music again, humming along with it. "Don't be. We're cool."

Carlos stayed with them instead of going back to the table. Maria managed to not laugh at his dancing, and it was a while later when he realized that Cecil hadn't come back from the bathroom yet. He wouldn't be so reckless as to have sex during prom, would he? Carlos had no business trying to find him. Cecil would show up sooner or later. There was no reason to go looking for him, which was why Carlos went looking for him.

He wasn't hard to find. All Carlos had to do was slip into the locker room, listen, and follow the soft pants and moans to where Cecil and his current partner were.

Or partners, Carlos realized with a shock when he eased around a corner. He didn't know if he'd meant to break up the fucking when he went looking for his friend or not, but the sight of Cecil on all fours, with his sari pushed up around his waist and his panties around one ankle, giving some guy -- wait, that was Paolo, he went to Carlos' church -- a blowjob while Mike fucked him, made him forget everything. None of them were paying any attention to anything else, so his startled choke went unnoticed. Cecil was going down on Paolo like his life depended on it, reaching one hand back to grab Mike's hip and pull him hard against him. He was whining and moaning, almost choking on Paolo's dick as Mike grabbed him by the hair, but only pulled away to turn to Mike and beg to be fucked harder.

Mike obliged him, and Paolo laughed as the force of his thrusts pushed Cecil forward and onto his dick, doing almost all of the work for him. Carlos swallowed and started to shake and sweat as his own dick reacted to the sight. He and Cecil hadn't ... done anything ... since Cecil's birthday the week previously, and Carlos had been antsy for a while, even with sleeping with Maria. He hated that his body wanted Cecil so badly, hated the pounding heart and sweaty palms it gave him, hated how hard it was to resist his friend, hated that Cecil never had to start anything. Mostly, he hated that he wasn't in either Paolo's or Mike's place.

Paolo pushed Cecil away and took his condom off, then grabbed Cecil's chin tightly with one hand and gave himself a few quick jerks with the other, coming all over Cecil's startled face as Cecil squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips.

Once Paolo was spent, panting, Cecil dabbed at his face with a napkin and glared at him. "I told you I didn't want you doing that," he complained.

"It's what sluts like you deserve," he was told, then groaned as Mike leaned over him, his thrusts fast and hard, reaching one hand around to jerk him off.

"Ah!"

Carlos backed out of the locker room, then, not wanting to be seen. The dim lighting in the gym hid his hard-on as he made his way back to the table, anger at Paolo joining his anger at himself. He hunched low in his chair as Maria and Vithya danced together, and glowered until Cecil -- face presumably washed, as his makeup was fresh -- sat down beside him. For once he wasn't cheerful, and kept lightly touching his face every so often.

Finally he sighed. "You really need to learn to stop watching me have sex." Carlos groaned and held his head in his hands. "Unless that's a kink of yours, in which case I'll let you know who's cool with being watched."

" _Two_ of them?" was all Carlos could whisper.

Cecil touched his face again. "In my defense, they kinda ganged up on me. I mean, I knew Mike wanted it," he went on as Carlos looked up sharply, "but the other guy was a surprise. So I just rolled with it. I figured, why not, right? Two hot guys at once?" Then he scowled. "Not that I'll ever fuck Paolo again. I'm a slut, but I have _rules,_ damn it. I ... You can't just _do that_ without the other person's permission." He was agitated, upset about sex for the first time Carlos had seen. He kept touching his face like he could still feel Paolo's come on him, and Carlos took his hand gently. Cecil looked at him in surprise.

"He goes to my church. We play football after, sometimes. Want me to make him hurt?"

Cecil stared at him for a long time, mouth working silently as tears started to glisten in his eyes. He squeezed Carlos' hand tightly before clearing his throat. "I ... I don't like violence."

"That's not what I asked." Cecil moved their hands under the table and sighed deeply as he looked down at them, then back up at Carlos.

"If ... if he comes to school on Monday with a few bruises, I wouldn't feel bad."

Carlos nodded. "I can do that."

"Really?" Cecil's voice was small and incredulous. "You'd do that? For me? Just because he ..."

He trailed off as Carlos kept nodding. "Yeah. I can't tell him _why,_ but he shouldn't have ... done that. Well, actually, I _can_ tell him why. What's he going to do about it? Tell the priest or his parents that I beat him up because he ... did that ... to another guy?" Carlos snorted.

Cecil was smiling, almost beaming. Then he looked up at Carlos through his lashes. "Did it turn you on?" he asked softly.

Carlos cleared his throat and looked away as he took his hand back. "What do _you_ think," he mumbled.

"That we really need to fuck," was the murmured reply.

Carlos tugged at his collar and cleared his throat again, loudly. Cecil's laugh was quiet and almost sad as he got up and went over to Vithya and Maria, joining them in dancing once again. Carlos just sat at the table and hated himself.

~~~~~

They'd been at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner for two hours, laughing and playing card games. Cecil and Maria were sharing a banana split, and everyone but Carlos had been thrilled to learn that both couples had rooms at the same hotel.

"Your dad actually let you out overnight?" Maria giggled.

"He just wanted me out of the house," Cecil huffed. He was glowering at the cards he held. "I'm starting to think he's got a girlfriend."

"Why's that a bad thing?" Maria asked. "I mean, he's still young, he's single, he's fucking _hot_ as _hell_ ... Why _shouldn't_ he have a girlfriend?"

"Because why does he need one?" Cecil snapped. "I'm not enough for him?" The sudden awkward silence at the table made him hastily backtrack. "No! That's not what I meant! Eww, you're all gross. Look, it's been just the two of us since Mom died. And he loves Mom. What if he falls in love again and forgets about her? What if ... what if they decide they want me to leave after high school? Doesn't he love us?"

There was silence before Maria shrugged. "Honey, I doubt he's going to forget your mom. You didn't exactly get your pretty face from _him,_ you know. And there are some things you need that you'd go to jail for for getting from your kid, you know? I've only met your dad once, but I'm _really_ sure that he _really_ loves you, and falling in love or remarrying isn't going to change that."

"But ... what about Mom?"

They all looked at each other, unsure if Cecil really comprehended both his mother being dead _and_ what that meant, before Vithya stepped in. "Would she want him to be alone forever? Without her physically there?"

Cecil frowned. "Well ... no ... But _I'm_ there!"

"Not fucking him, I hope," Maria snorted. Cecil gave her a dirty look. "Loving your kid and loving a spouse are two different kinds of love, Cecil. And you can love your dead spouse _and_ a new one." She reached over and squeezed his hand with a kind smile. "It's going to be ok. Let the man live a little. If he _does_ have a girlfriend, he probably knows it would upset you if you knew, and doesn't want that to happen."

"He's not even that attractive," Cecil grumbled.

Maria laughed. "Oh my _God,_ Cecil, your dad is fucking _gorgeous._ Tall, dark, angsty, built like a tank, oh my _God,_ all that _muscle_ ..."

She was fanning herself, panting a little, and Vithya nodded in agreement. Cecil rolled his eyes and looked at Carlos, who looked down and shrugged as his cheeks burned. That made Cecil throw his cards down in disgust. "Oh my _God,_ you guys, he's my _dad._ Which means he's old enough to be _everyone's_ dad, here."

" _Major_ DILF alert," Maria chortled.

"That's it, we're not having babies." Cecil crossed his arms over his chest petulantly and Carlos laughed.

"You need to go to bed, Cecil. You're tired."

"I'm not. I'm just pissed that everyone wants to fuck my dad."

"Yeah, we should get going." Maria threw some money on the table as they all gathered the cards and then got up. "He's hot, Cecil. Get over it. But don't worry, no one here will fuck him."

"You all better not." He was still grouchy when they met up at the hotel, where Maria managed to sweet-talk the night manager into giving them adjoining rooms. He flopped onto the bed and stared glumly up at the ceiling. Carlos set his overnight bag in the other room and yawned, then leaned in the doorway and watched Cecil as the girls sat on the bed and chatted. "Ugh, I'm exhausted."

" _We're_ not," Vithya laughed.

"Come lay down in here," Carlos offered. Cecil raised his head and stared at him, then slowly got up, letting the edge of his sari fall off his shoulder as he grabbed his own overnight bag. Carlos watched that, and stepped aside to let Cecil pass. He didn't look at Maria and Vithya as he closed the door. He'd set his MP3 player on the nightstand, and scrolled through the songs quickly as Cecil just stood in the middle of the room. Once he'd found a song, he turned it on and set the player down, then stepped up behind Cecil and touched between his shoulder blades gently. "Hey," he murmured when Cecil jumped a bit and looked up at him. "Want to dance?"

Cecil's tired, troubled expression slowly melted into a smile as he nodded, turning and wrapping his arms around Carlos' neck. His head came up roughly to Carlos' nose, and Carlos tilted his own head down as the opening strains of Dido's White Flag kicked in and he wrapped his arms around Cecil's waist. He held his friend gently, one hand cupping his hip and the other curling in the hair at the base of his neck. Carlos had only seen Cecil with two guys, but they'd both treated him badly, and Carlos very much wanted to make up for that. He wanted to be gentle with Cecil, tender. Cecil had been through so much, and even though he may have honestly enjoyed the rough sex he had with Mike, he deserved having someone be gentle with him, loving. Someone who would cater to what _he_ wanted.

The song faded away and Cecil, who had relaxed in Carlos' embrace during it, straightened. "Thanks," he whispered roughly. There were tear tracks on his cheeks when he looked up at Carlos with a shaky smile. "Tonight was --" He didn't get to finish because Carlos had cupped his cheek and kissed him softly. Cecil's entire body shuddered as he whined, hands clutching the back of Carlos' hair and neck tightly, almost desperately. The initially soft and chaste kiss deepened as they both opened their mouths, but it didn't last long. Cecil pulled away, shaking his head and taking huge gulps of air as he rested his forehead on Carlos' collarbone. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just ... I can't. Not tonight. I can't ... Maybe you want me, maybe you don't ... I can't do that tonight."

Carlos stroked his back gently. "I want to make you happy," he whispered. They were both half-hard, and as Cecil arched his back it pressed them together, but Carlos clenched his jaw and refused to do more than hold him.

The beautiful young man laughed quietly. "I want you to make love to me. That would make me happy."

Carlos tilted Cecil's head up and traced his thumb along his lips. "Ok."

He got a blank look. Then he got a wide-eyed, incredulous look. Then Cecil licked his lips, his tongue brushing over Carlos' thumb, and they both sighed. "You ... what?"

He didn't believe it. Carlos kissed his forehead, then cheek, then below his ear. Cecil tilted his head into the contact with another soft whine. "Ok," Carlos murmured. He took a deep breath as his heart pounded in his chest. "I ... I want you, too."

Cecil wobbled in his arms and Carlos tightened his grip, afraid he'd fall down. He didn't have to reassure Cecil again, though, because he'd apparently decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and kissed Carlos suddenly, fully, then pulled back with a laugh and a smile he was trying to keep under control. His heart pounded against Carlos' chest as they held each other tightly. "Uhm, shit. I mean ... I need a shower. I need to wash up." He looked between Carlos, the bathroom, and the bed as he nervously bit his lip, as if he thought taking a shower would give Carlos enough time to change his mind.

It might have, if the thought of showering _with_ Cecil hadn't burned itself into Carlos' imagination. He swallowed sharply and gently rubbed his thumb over Cecil's cheek, then brushed one of his lavender streaks behind his ear. "So do I," he managed to get out. "It would use less water if we both ..."

He could have kicked himself. Yes, perfect. Very seductive. Suggest showering together because it would save water. He was a regular Casanova. Cecil laughed, though, and kissed him as he pulled them to the bathroom. It was huge, with marble countertops and a bathtub the size of a jacuzzi. The shower could have easily fit seven people, with shower heads on either end and along the ceiling. Carlos stared at the bath, then looked at Cecil, who was also looking at it as he draped a couple of towels over the mirror. He glanced at Carlos and grinned. Carlos nodded and went to turn it on. Once it was running, he turned back to Cecil and lifted him up as he kissed him, setting him on the counter and slowly unwrapping his sari. Cecil pulled at his suit jacket and shirt, his legs around Carlos' waist. Carlos pressed kisses along Cecil's neck, shoulders, and collar as he unfastened his belt and pants. Cecil was whimpering softly, shaking.

"Are you ok?" Carlos asked as they finally got his clothes off and Cecil slid off the counter, dropping the rest of his sari to the floor. Carlos let out a shuddering breath at the sight of his panties, garter belt, and stockings, watching Cecil's face as he slowly knelt to remove them.

Cecil moaned and leaned against the counter, head falling back as he gripped the edge tightly. "Yeah," he whimpered. "I'm perfect. You're perfect. Everything's perfect."

Carlos kissed his hip as he slid his panties down. He stared unabashedly at Cecil's uncircumcised cock and his lips trembled, but he didn't touch it. The knot of ever-present guilt in his stomach tightened at the thought. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly instead, which made Cecil shiver. The garter belt and stockings gave him pause when he got to them. Carlos toyed with the garter straps and kissed the tops of Cecil's thighs as he considered the slight dilemma. Cecil was shuddering and leaning forward, long hair brushing against Carlos' back and his fingers digging into Carlos' shoulders.

"Just pull them all down," he whispered. "Don't undo them."

Carlos nodded and licked his lips. He pulled the garter belt down a bit, then eased the sheer purple stockings down with it. Cecil tilted his head up to kiss him as he worked, and once they were off, pushed Carlos to the floor and lay on top of him, between his legs. Carlos groaned and held him tightly, barely breaking their kiss in order to breath. Cecil rocked against him for a few moments, hands gripping his hair, and then sat up suddenly. Carlos stared up at him in confusion.

"The bath!"

That made Carlos sit up, too, and he scrambled to turn the water off as they both laughed. He turned and Cecil pushed him in, following and kissing him under the water. Carlos sat up with Cecil in his lap, trying to get them both clean with the washcloth and body wash while Cecil squirmed against him, covering him in kisses. At one point he slid under the water and took Carlos into his mouth, sucking him off as Carlos gasped, until he couldn't hold his breath any more.

They splashed around in the tub for a while after that, kissing and touching each other everywhere. Carlos didn't say anything, but Cecil was full of quiet, one-word praises. 'Beautiful' and 'perfect' and 'love' and 'handsome' rolled off his lips like the water that dripped from their hair and skin and Carlos' heart clenched with each word; no one had found him attractive before, no one had told him he was wonderful and handsome. He had a hard time believing it even as he craved the praise and hoped it was true.

"I think we're clean," Cecil finally whispered. He raised his head from Carlos' neck and rested his forehead against Carlos'.

"Ok." Carlos slid one arm beneath Cecil's rear and the other around his back, standing and lifting him easily.

Cecil laughed as Carlos stepped out of the tub. He held the taller boy tightly, reaching out to grab one of the towels from the mirror as Carlos made his way back to the bed. He rubbed it over their hair and torsos, and when Carlos set him on the bed, looked up at him adoringly. "There are condoms and lube in my bag," he whispered. "Grab two. I mean, if you still want to ..."

Carlos swallowed sharply and dug around in Cecil's overnight bag until he found the lube, then in his own bag for the condoms. "Might as well let Mom and Dad think I used these with Maria," he mumbled as he flushed. Cecil just sat on the bed and smiled at him. "Why two?"

He hoped it wasn't too ignorant of a question, and Cecil took them from him with a kiss. "Makes cleaning up a lot easier," he whispered against Carlos' mouth. Carlos nodded breathlessly as he watched Cecil put one on before scooting back against the pillows. "Come here."

He went, kneeling between Cecil's legs and looking down at him, dark hair spread out on the pillows, lips parted and quivering, fingertips tracing over his chest lightly. Carlos shivered at the sensation and tried to unwrap his condom, but his hands were shaking too much. Cecil sat up enough to take it from him, unwrapping it and rolling it onto him. Carlos ran his hands firmly up and down Cecil's thighs as he worked, then leaned down and kissed him once he was done. Cecil held him with one hand and flicked the lube open with his other, then poured a liberal amount onto Carlos' dick and rubbed it firmly as he watched Carlos.

Carlos gasped into their kiss and almost collapsed. Cecil grinned. "Grab a pillow," he whispered. "Put it under my hips. That'll make things easier." Carlos nodded and did as he was told, turning back to watch Cecil pour more lube right onto his ... He tried not to think about it. As much as the sight of Cecil prepping himself turned him on, it also brought a swell of disgust at himself. A large part of his mind told him that this was a disgusting and bad act, that _he_ was disgusting and bad, that _they_ were disgusting and bad and going to Hell. Carlos slid the pillow beneath Cecil's hips and leaned down to kiss him, hoping to shut the voice up. Cecil pulled him closer, guiding Carlos to press against and into him. Carlos may have let out a whimper of his own as he trembled. "It's ok," Cecil whispered in his ear. "Just go slow. We can stop whenever you want."

He didn't want to stop. Carlos shook his head and then rested his forehead in the crook of Cecil's neck, rocking his hips and easing himself into Cecil bit by bit. Cecil held him tightly, fingernails scraping lightly across his back as he gasped in Carlos' ear with pleasure. Once he was fully inside of Cecil, groaning at how tight he was, Carlos raised himself up on his forearms and looked down at his friend. There were tears in Cecil's eyes and he gently brushed them away as Cecil smiled up at him. "Are you ok?" he panted. He wanted to push into him, over and over, as hard and fast as he could, but forced himself to hold still. He didn't want to hurt Cecil.

Cecil laughed and nodded, pulling him down for a kiss and raising his hips up. "Just a dream come true," he whispered. "Oh God, please ... you can move. Just fuck me. Please."

"I don't want to hurt you," Carlos replied as he slowly started to move his hips. The feelings made his eyes roll back and he groaned along with Cecil.

"You won't," Cecil laughed. "Be as rough as you want."

"I don't ... I don't want to be bad to you."

"No," Cecil corrected, "you don't want to be _abusive_ to me. You --- oh, God, please, faster --- you aren't abusive, sweetest, dearest Carlos. You couldn't be. Please ..."

Carlos was gradually persuaded, both by Cecil's begging and by his own body, to speed his thrusts up. Cecil wrapped his legs around Carlos' waist and arched his neck, smiling and laughing each time his breath was forced out of him in tiny huffs when Carlos pushed into him hard enough. It concerned Carlos at first, until Cecil wanted to be on top, leaning down to bite and kiss all over Carlos' chest as he rode Carlos hard, his gasps and groans loud even over the music that was still playing. Carlos grunted every time Cecil slammed himself onto him, gripping Cecil's hips tightly. It was amazing. Beyond amazing. He pulled Cecil down at one point, turning them both on their sides, and kissed him as they held each other tightly. They came like that, Cecil soon after Carlos, and lay, panting, in each other's arms after.

Cecil nuzzled Carlos' neck with a contented sigh. "That was amazing," he whispered.

"Yeah," Carlos agreed. "But you don't have to say that to make me feel better."

That brought a sleepy laugh. "I mean it. You fuck like you actually care. Only Earl --" He coughed, embarrassed. "Well. Not a lot of my guys do that."

"Mmmm." Carlos' eyelids were heavy, and he barely stirred when he felt Cecil taking his condom off. They fell asleep together, waking up twice during the night and (don't say making love, Carlos, don't say making love) having a second and third round, slow and leisurely each time.

They were still exhausted in the morning, when Maria banged on the adjoining door to wake them up so she and Carlos could go to church. Their mutual shower was short, almost business-like, and Cecil didn't meet his eyes as they got dressed and he cleared his throat.

"So ... don't worry about last night," he mumbled. Carlos blinked at him. "I mean, thank you. It was ... good of you to ... to want to make me happy after ... after he did that. And a lot more straight guys experiment than you might think. I ... I know it didn't mean more than that." Did it? Carlos didn't know. Cecil finally smiled at him warmly and his heart clenched. "You're one of my best friends. One of my only friends. That means more to me than anything."

He was trying to assure Carlos that he wasn't reading anything into the previous night, wasn't assuming it meant anything. Carlos nodded and opened the adjoining door, kissing Maria lightly before they all went their separate ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos makes good on his promise.

He wasn't a violent person. Not by a long shot. So it was surprising to Carlos how easy shouldering Paolo in the hallway was, how easy it was to knock the shorter boy down. He supposed it helped that as soon as he'd seen the boy, a tight knot of rage had coiled in his stomach and he'd _wanted_ to hurt him.

"Oh, sorry," Carlos lied as he grabbed Paolo's hand and yanked him up. He wasn't gentle, and Paolo winced again as he took his hand back.

"Jeez, Garcia, watch where you're going." He rubbed his hand and shoulder.

"Will do. Wanna play some football after church?"

"You gonna watch yourself?"

Carlos grinned. "Yeah, of course."

Paolo gave him a suspicious look before heading off to find his family. Thinking of all the ways he could hurt Paolo, and how much he was going to enjoy it, kept Carlos' mind occupied during the sermon. He was even able to ignore Father Iglesias' weekly rant about sodomites. He supposed it wasn't very Christian of him to plan on hurting someone, but then again, God _had_ once sent bears to kill a group of boys who had been taunting a prophet, so he figured he was following a good example.

After church, he joined the group of young men playing football out back. Paolo was there, too, and Carlos managed to tackle him several times, shoving him hard into the grass. Paolo was clearly getting irritated, and then Carlos slammed into him so hard he flew back at least four feet before he hit the ground. He swore loud enough that Sister Consuela yelled at him, and glared up at Carlos.

"What the hell?!" He curled on his side, trying to catch his breath. "What the _fucking_ hell, Garcia?! What's your problem?"

"My _problem,_ " Carlos growled as he knelt next to Paolo and pulled him up by the collar, "is how you treat my friends. I know what you did to Cecil last night."

Paolo's eyes widened in fear before narrowing. "I didn't do anything to him. That fag's lying."

He struggled to get out of Carlos' grasp, shoving hard at him, and Carlos lifted him to his tiptoes. "Cecil doesn't really lie. I _saw_ what you did, because I went looking for him."

Now Paolo was starting to panic, and kicked at Carlos' shins. Carlos dropped him and shoved him, hard. "Leave me the fuck alone. I didn't do a damn thing. Don't you _fucking_ say a word or I swear to God, I'll kill you."

That made Carlos laugh. "You think you could hurt me? You're just a disrespectful shithead, Paolo." They were talking low enough that no one could hear them, but their obvious argument _was_ attracting attention. "You _deliberately_ came on his face, when he had _specifically_ told you not to. Hey, maybe Father Iglesias wants to know why we're arguing."

"You asshole!" Carlos was ready for the punch that Paolo threw, ducking and coming up with his fist in Paolo's stomach. There were shouts from the other boys and the adults, and as Paolo fought back, Carlos landed several solid hits. They ended up tumbling to the ground, beating and tearing at each other before they were pulled apart. Paolo spit at him as Sister Consuela hit them across their backs with her cane, and Carlos twisted out of his father's grip to bust the boy's nose. "Fuck!"

"Carlos!"

"Don't you _ever_ do that again," he growled as Paolo's nose spurted blood. He let his father pull him away and straightened, smoothing his shirt and hair. "Sorry, Dad. Just a little disagreement."

"A _little_ disagreement?" his father scoffed, shaking him roughly. "Over _what?!_ "

"He was saying rude things about Maria." It was the easiest lie that Carlos had ever told. "He's a disgusting pig and I'm not apologizing."

"Is this true?" Father Iglesias asked.

Paolo glared at Carlos, who calmly raised an eyebrow at him, and then his shoulders slumped and he nodded. "Yes, Father."

Father Iglesias sighed deeply and looked between the two dirty and bloody boys. "It is _never_ acceptable to insult someone, Paolo. I'm disappointed in you. Go to the confessional. I'll be there in a moment. And Carlos," he continued as Paolo trudged off, "while it's very noble to defend someone when they've been insulted, violence is _not_ the way of our Lord."

"Pretty sure God sent bears to eat kids in Elisha's defense," Carlos muttered.

His father smacked the back of his head. "They were a group of young men your age or older," Father Iglesias corrected testily, "and they were threatening to kill Elisha. So unless Paolo was threatening to kill Maria, go wait with him." Carlos closed his eyes to avoid rolling them before following Paolo. They sat outside the confessional and glared at each other until Paolo finally spoke, his voice nasally and muffled from his busted nose and the ice pack he'd been given.

"Don't say a fucking thing about prom."

Carlos rolled his eyes. "Why shouldn't I?"

"No one would believe you. I'm not a fag."

"You say that word again and I'll throw your ass across the pews, house of God or not."

Paolo hunched his shoulders and stared down at the floor. "Look, I'm straight, ok? What do you want me to do? Just don't tell anyone."

Carlos glanced up as Father Iglesias made his way toward him. "Apologize to Cecil, and _never_ talk to him again. Just leave him alone."

Paolo's sigh was relieved. "Yeah, sure. You won't tell?"

"Not if you leave him alone and apologize." Paolo nodded and they shook on it just as Father Iglesias reached them. Carlos smiled at him. "We worked it all out, Father."

The old priest smiled. "I'm glad. You still need to confess." He motioned Paolo into the confessional, leaving Carlos to wait outside.

~~~~~

Cecil's kisses were warm and languid, never leaving Carlos' lips as he sat in Carlos' lap at the table. He dragged his fingers through Carlos' hair and along his scalp, down his neck and shoulders, and around his back. Carlos' own hands were under Cecil's shirt, pushing it up as he dug his fingers into Cecil's soft skin. It wasn't clear, as their kiss deepened yet again and Cecil's tongue brushed against his, who had leaned over first, but it hadn't been Cecil. Carlos bit Cecil's lower lip gently and Cecil's grip on his hair and neck tightened sharply, sending pleasant shocks through Carlos' system as the other boy shifted higher in his lap. They both groaned at the feeling, holding each other tighter.

It had become a routine, after prom. Mr. Palmer had asked Elder Josie to come over during Cecil's tutoring time, but it usually took her about an hour to show up. Some days they worked all day. Some days -- an increasing number of days -- Cecil ended up in Carlos' lap, their lips sealed together, neither of them moving except to run their hands over each other or shift just slightly. Carlos kept his eyes closed until the barking of the dogs signalled Elder Josie's arrival.

On those days -- those increasingly numerous days -- Carlos texted Maria as soon as he was on his way home and she met him there. They alternated between her uncle's house and his, and they'd stopped pretending they were going to study as they walked past his mother. They'd stopped pretending they were doing anything other than having sex, and, oddly enough, Carlos' normally anti-sex mother said nothing about it. She must have been _very_ worried about his sexuality to be letting him have entirely not-secret sex in her home. He didn't know if she'd put together that he and Maria only had sex on the days he'd been tutoring Cecil, but Maria certainly had. She hadn't outright said anything about it, but she'd dropped hints that she and Vithya had heard him and Cecil on prom night. They hadn't had sex since, despite almost every fiber in Carlos' body demanding it. He was trying to keep the situation under control.

The dogs started barking and Cecil pulled away, standing up and walking quickly to his room. Carlos went to the bathroom, undid his pants, and beat off as quickly as he could, the taste of Cecil's lip balm still on his lips as he licked them, knowing that Cecil was doing the exact same thing not ten feet away. He washed his hands after he was done and slid out of the bathroom, letting Cecil in and avoiding a hoped-for kiss as he did so. He had just sat back at the table when Elder Josie walked in the door. She set a plate of cookies -- fresh-baked and delicious-smelling -- in front of him and ruffled his hair before ambling to the living room.

"Thank you, Elder Josie. How are you today?"

"Not as good as you," was her reply before she burst into cackles, and not for the first time, Carlos suspected that she was more on Cecil's side than Mr. Palmer had been hoping for in a chaperone. "How was prom?"

"Good, thank you." Too good. He didn't look up when Cecil greeted her and sat down again. They didn't talk much for the rest of the day and Carlos was fine with that. He was getting very good at pretending they did nothing but study when they were alone. "Maria's leaving in a month," he eventually commented. He didn't know why he'd brought it up. He wasn't looking forward to it. He didn't enjoy sex with Maria, but it was better than doing the same with Cecil. There was less gut-wrenching guilt involved.

"I'm sorry. I'll miss her." They were quiet for a few minutes. "I probably won't need tutoring after winter break. We'll see how midterms go, but I'm pretty sure I'll do good. I have the best tutor, after all."

Carlos didn't want to stop tutoring Cecil. He enjoyed their time together ... which was why he couldn't tutor Cecil with Maria out of town. They would do something he would enjoy far too much. He sighed.

"Yeah."

"Are your parents still worried?"

That brought a whole new kind of concern. "I don't know. They're worried about _something._ I don't know what it is, though. I don't think it's me. They stay up late, a lot, and argue. They won't tell me anything." The house had been steadily getting more and more tense. "I'd be afraid they're going to get a divorce, but they're way too Catholic. I had a friend whose parents just moved apart rather than getting a divorce, though." He stared down at his homework. "I don't want my parents to split up. Oh, God, what if one of them's dying?"

There was a brief moment before Cecil scooted his chair closer and hugged Carlos tightly. Carlos leaned his head against Cecil's shoulder and tried not to cry. If his parents split up, if one of them was sick ... Cecil kissed his temple and held his hand. Carlos was too fraught with worry to pull away.

"What do I do?"

"I don't know," Cecil murmured. "You can crash here, though, if you ever need to. No sex," he qualified when Carlos raised his head. "Nothing we ... not the usual. Unless you want. A lot of guys stay here when they're going through stuff at home. I can sleep on the couch."

"You said the couch is uncomfortable."

"That's how you know I'm serious."

Carlos smiled and turned his face into Cecil's neck, breathing in his warm scent deeply. They stayed that way until Mr. Palmer pulled up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Bye, Maria. :( Also, sex, but no details.

"Mom? Dad?"

His parents were in the living room, talking in low, urgent voices. They stopped as Carlos padded down the stairs. He hadn't texted Maria that afternoon -- he'd been too consumed with worry, going over everything that could be wrong. Neither parent so much as smiled at him.

"Go back to bed."

He ignored his mother's command and stood in the doorway. "What's going on? Are you two alright?"

"Nothing's wrong. Go back to bed."

" _Something's_ wrong," he insisted. "You're both acting weird. Are you sick? Are you splitting up? Is one of the girls sick? Abuella or Abuelo?"

His father sighed and rubbed his face. "No. It's nothing. You have a test in the morning. Go. To. Bed."

Carlos' voice almost cracked in frustration. "It's not 'nothing' when you two are up all night talking and arguing!"

He father stood and walked toward him. "Carlos --"

"It's not 'nothing' when you're constantly yelling at the girls for stupid things! _Something_ is wrong and I want to know what it is!"

Much like Carlos, his father wasn't a violent man. He had never so much as swatted Carlos or his sisters on the butt, no matter how badly they'd misbehaved, so Carlos was entirely unprepared for the backhanded slap that almost knocked him to the floor. He and his mother both cried out as his skull cracked against the doorframe. Pain blossomed in his cheek and temple and his vision darkened as he stumbled, only held up by his father's fist clenched in his night shirt.

"If you don't go to bed _right now,_ " his father growled, "you can leave my home."

"You hit me," Carlos mumbled in dazed awe. His vision was still swimming.

"Ramon, leave him alone! He's just a boy!"

His father whirled around so quickly that Carlos was afraid he'd hit his mother next. He didn't move toward her, though. He just stood there and breathed heavily, shaking with anger as Carlos choked back sobs.

Finally, his father dropped him and sighed heavily. His broad shoulders slumped and he looked lost, almost. "Go to bed, Carlos." His voice was barely audible. "This doesn't concern you. You'll be fine."

Carlos fled back to his room and threw himself on to his bed, sobbing and shaking. His father had hit him. Hit him for wanting to know what was going on. Hit him. _Hit_ him.

He wasn't feeling any better in the morning. He left as early as he could and walked to school, getting there as Cecil's father dropped off a well-dressed young man in silvery grey slacks, a matching vest, and a deep purple button-down shirt with a turquoise-inlaid bolo tie. He had a matching silvery grey jacket over one arm and fell into step beside Carlos.

"Blech, suits. How do I look?"

Carlos did a double-take. " _Cecil?_ "

He got a bashful grin. "Yeah. Weird, right? I know. Don't worry -- I'm wearing lingerie. I have an interview for an internship at the community radio station after school. How do I look?" He _very_ obviously looked at Carlos' bruised cheek, but said nothing about it.

"Good." _Really_ good. Carlos wanted to kiss him right there, lean into his embrace and comfort, and bit his lip as his feelings about Cecil and his parents swelled up and overwhelmed him. He gasped and hunched his shoulders, crossing his arms tightly over his aching chest.

"Ok, let's go to the nurse." Cecil took his arm and Carlos jerked away from his touch. "Carlos --"

"Don't touch me," he gasped. He sat on the steps of the school and put his head between his legs, trying to calm himself down. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe and his chest felt like it was collapsing and his heart was pounding and his mouth was dry and he was shaking and light-headed and he leaned against Cecil and it was only when the other boy wrapped an arm tightly around him that he started to calm down. He took deep breaths, slowly, in and out, his eyes closed against the stares of the passing students.

It wasn't until the second bell rang that Carlos finally pulled himself together and away from Cecil's embrace. Then he let Cecil help him up, the shorter boy's hands warm in his own. They stood there for a few moments, Carlos drained and awkward and Cecil eternally patient and calm. He didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't say anything, in fact, just stood one step above Carlos, their eyes level and their hands still clasped tightly between the two of them. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed in a frown, the questions obvious in his eyes.

Carlos sighed, leaned forward, and kissed him before running up the steps and inside.

~~~~~

"You could at least _pretend_ you enjoy sex." Maria's voice was a bit muffled from having her face buried in his neck, then she rolled off of him and lay on her back, breathing heavily.

"... Sorry." Carlos stared at the ceiling. "I've got a lot on my mind right now."

"Do you need me to --"

"No." She hadn't even reached for him yet. Carlos sat up before she could and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, then held his head in his hands and stared at the floor. He felt ... empty. No ... hollow. Like if a pin was dropped into his chest it would echo forever. At the same time, his chest was tight and aching, filling up his perpetual hollowness with undulating waves of pain. He breathed shallowly for a moment before heaving himself up. "I need to shower."

Maria followed him. Carlos was mostly used to them bathing together after sex. _She_ certainly didn't seem to mind his body, showing none of the discomfort with it that Carlos himself felt. It was soothing, too, to feel her hands running over his back and shoulders, digging into his tense muscles and easing them.

"I think my parents are going to split up." He was facing her, not really seeing her.

"Oh, honey ..." Maria pulled him into a fierce hug as the water poured over them, and Carlos wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I'm so sorry. Are you sure?"

Carlos nodded and told her what he knew of his increasingly tense, easily-angered parents, of their late-night arguments and phone calls, of his father backhanding him the night before. Tears were falling on his cheeks again by the time he had finished, and Maria hugged and kissed him and tried to calm his fears.

"Maybe your dad lost his job," she offered. "That would explain why they're so upset."

"I've heard them talking about who the girls and I will stay with."

"If he doesn't find a new job soon, you guys may need to sell the house and get an apartment," she reasoned. "They could probably save some more money if you and the girls stayed with friends for a while."

"I don't know," Carlos sighed. "Why wouldn't they _tell_ me if that's what's wrong? I've got a job and I'm almost seventeen. I can help with money."

Maria brushed his bangs out of his eyes and smiled. "They want you to concentrate on school, silly. And they're your parents -- _they're_ supposed to provide for _you,_ not the other way around. Come on, honey, we're all Mexicans here -- this is a matter of _pride._ " He laughed and she pulled him down for a kiss. "It's going to be ok. I promise."

Carlos nuzzled her neck, sliding his hands from her waist to her rear and massaging gently. Maria let out a small squeak and rolled her hips against his, turning her head to kiss him. He returned it briefly before dropping to his knees and trailing kisses along her ample stomach. He gripped her upper thighs and she shifted her legs apart, holding his hair lightly and sighing with pleasure as he moved one hand and stroked between her legs as he kissed her. He'd learned a lot of ways to eat her out without straining his jaw too much. Plus, with his face between her legs, she couldn't see how exceptionally bored he was. She knew, of course; she just didn't want it to be obvious.

She pulled him up after she came and he hugged her, letting her catch her breath before they finished their shower. She held onto him tightly, cheek against his chest, and sighed heavily. "Great. I teach a guy how to do me right, and then I have to go back to school. Ugh."

Carlos laughed a little. "Sorry."

"It's ok." She yawned. "Let's have a party on Saturday. Get a hotel room. Daddy will pay."

"Am I the _only_ person whose parents care if they have sex?"

Maria laughed as they washed up. "Oh, Daddy cares. But your parents _really_ want you to be straight --"

"I _am_ straight."

"-- and mentioned that you're on the fast track to a good research position, and the dollar signs appeared in his eyes."

"I won't be making _that_ much money."

"Yeah, but _Daddy_ doesn't know that. Besides, you could use a night away from this place."

"Yeah," Carlos agreed as they got into bed. "You're right." He waited until she'd settled and then curled around her, sighing into her hair. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

~~~~~

"A bunch of my friends and I are going to get a hotel room on Saturday -- you know, have a going-away party. Can Carlos come, too?"

They were in the living room, Carlos' arm around Maria's shoulders as they sat on the couch. He choked a bit and gave her a hard stare. She may as well have just told them that they were going to fuck all night -- add in a few positions while she was at it. His parents were going to _kill_ hi--

"Just be to church on time."

" _What?!_ "

Carlos turned sharply to his father, but Maria pinched him. "Thanks! I'll pick him up Saturday morning and take him to church on Sunday." She gave him a warning look before settling back into his embrace.

Carlos sighed slowly. He hadn't expected any of that. Things must have been _really_ bad if his parents weren't questioning his every non-school move. The knot of worry in his stomach clenched again, tighter than ever. He thought he might be sick. Maria felt his tension and squeezed his hand before kissing his shoulder gently.

"I invited Cecil, too," she told him later, as he walked her to her car. His parents _had_ drawn the line at her staying more than one night at a time. "We've been hanging out a bit. He's a real sweety."

"You haven't hear him get morbid. Wait, he has a curfew."

"Only if he goes home." She leaned against her car and grinned as she pulled him against her.

Carlos frowned. "Ok ... So we're not, uh ..."

Maria sighed. " _Sex,_ Carlos. _Sex._ Say it." He glared at her. "Come on. Sex. You can say it. We've been having sex for a month and a half. You're a big boy. Say it."

Carlos sighed dramatically. "Seeeeeex," he muttered slowly.

Maria beamed at him and squeezed his rear. " _Good!_ " Then she pushed him away and got in the car. "And we'll see how it goes on Saturday."

"But, if Cecil's there --"

"See you later!" There was a wicked grin on her face as she drove off. Carlos sighed and trudged back inside.

~~~~~

People made him uncomfortable. Carlos liked them well enough; he just wasn't quite skilled at interacting with them. He'd been tucked in a corner chair all night, reading his science textbook as Maria and her friends drank and danced. He didn't know who had brought the alcohol and had refused all offers of both it and dancing, even when Maria wanted to dance.

Cecil had no such reservations. He flitted around the room, laughing and drinking and dancing and flirting. He was currently sandwiched between two young ladies, his silky purple shirt unbuttoned and hanging around his elbows, only kept on by dint of still being tucked into his skinny jeans -- skinny jeans the two girls were trying to unbutton.

Maria yanked his book out of his hands and straddled his lap, kissing him firmly. Carlos returned it automatically and frowned over her shoulder when she pulled back. "Please don't let this devolve into an orgy."

She laughed against his neck as she sucked on it. "If you're jealous, go get him."

"I'm not jealous."

"You're totally jealous."

"You're all drunk."

Maria snorted and then Cecil appeared behind her, his lips on her neck and his hands cupping her breasts. "Save me," he murmured. "Really."

"Ok, fine, let's do it," she said loudly as she pushed herself up. "Back off, bitches. These two are mine!" She pulled Carlos up and took he and Cecil by the hands, pulling them into the bathroom as her friends hooted and cheered. She locked the door and leaned against it, crossing her arms over her chest with a grin. "Better?"

Sinking down onto the edge of the tub, Cecil held his head in his hands. "Yeah. Thanks. You girls are _persistent_ when you're drunk."

"And you're not?"

Cecil rolled his eyes up to give Carlos a hard look. "No. I'm not an asshole. And I don't get drunk. I've seen what alcohol does to Native Americans, and I'm full-blooded. I rarely drink, I _never_ get drunk, and I don't take advantage of others when they do. Besides," and he ran his fingers through his long black hair as he sat up, "I make _exceptions_ for women. I'm a lot pickier about vaginas than I am about dicks."

"Yeah, when are you two going to officially hook up, anyway?" Maria asked. Carlos huffed. "Oh, come off it. It's obvious you want Cecil. Do you honestly think that our parents would have asked me to fuck you if yours didn't _know_ you want him?"

Carlos shook his head. "I'm _not gay._ "

Maria turned. "Cecil --"

"I believe him." Cecil was buttoning his shirt and glanced up as Maria scoffed, his eyebrows raised. "I have no reason _not_ to believe him. And if he's lying, well, sexuality is a tough thing for some people to come to terms with. The _last_ thing I want to do is pressure someone to come out before they're ready." He stood and smoothed his hair back before tying it into a ponytail at the base of his neck. "Ok. I'm ready. Thanks for the breather." Maria just rolled her eyes as she left the bathroom and Cecil paused as he followed, looking to the side but not right at Carlos. "Oh, and if you want people to stop thinking you're gay ..."

"Yeah?" Carlos asked.

"Stop eye fucking me all the time."

Then he was gone, and Carlos clenched his fists until his nails broke skin.

~~~~~

Hours later, after Maria's friends had all gone, Carlos lay curled toward the wall with Cecil's headphones on and Maria's MP3 player on high enough that he couldn't hear the two of them in the other bed. They'd invited him to join in, already undressed and under the covers, and Carlos had stared blankly at them, a flush creeping up his dark skin, before grabbing for the headphones and music player and turning to the wall. Surprisingly, they'd left him alone, and if he hadn't known any better, Carlos would have had no idea what was going on.

He should have been upset. Angry, even. Upset that Cecil and Maria thought that it was perfectly ok to have sex with him in the room. Angry that one of his best friends and his girlfriend were having sex just feet away from him. He wasn't, though. Not about Maria. He really didn't feel anything other than friendship for her. He didn't care if she had sex with other people.

He cared if Cecil did.

Carlos sighed and rolled onto his back, draping one arm over his face and closing his eyes for good measure. He didn't want to think about this now. Not around people -- not around _them._ He rolled over again to keep from peeking at them, because then he would stare, and they would notice, and then one would get in the bed with him and the other would follow, and Carlos would go along with whatever they wanted because no matter how _wrong_ it was, it felt _good_ when Cecil touched him, when Cecil kissed him, when he was inside of Cecil, and he _wanted_ that. It was almost more than he could stand.

He closed his eyes and curled up tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/). So go follow it. Sometimes I remember to post there on time. :D


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Backstory on Cecil's mom, and talk of death and suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having mental health issues lately - thank you all for your patience. I need to start Company Policy back up, too. I'm not deliberately abandoning either fic, I promise.

Carlos hated winter break. He would have preferred taking more classes, and the extra assignments he'd wheedled out of his teachers hadn't lasted him very long. He was bored. Their Christmas decorations were already up, so he couldn't do that. Maria was back at home for Christmas, Marcus had gone on a trip to India, his father was out of town, his mother had taken the girls to some girls-only function at church and left him at home alone, and Cecil --

Cecil was currently standing outside the front door, soaking wet and scowling. Carlos watched him from down the block and hurried through the rain a bit faster. It was after ten, going on eleven, and why Cecil was off the reservation that late was beyond Carlos. Cecil turned when he heard Carlos coming up the walk, rubbing his arms and shivering.

"No one's answering the door."

"No one's home." Carlos juggled his umbrella and bag of groceries and unlocked the door, shooing Cecil in. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, you know ... You didn't answer your phone." He didn't sound angry, just ... disappointed.

"I left it here, and no, I don't know." Cecil followed him to the kitchen and stared at the floor as Carlos set the bags down and grabbed a towel from the linen closet, coming back and throwing it on his head. He didn't move, which meant he was in a seriously down mood. Carlos looked at his soaking wet clothes and rolled his eyes. "Well, if you don't want to tell me, at least come take a bath. You'll catch a cold and die and then your father will kill me."

Cecil followed him up the stairs. "Yeah, probably." He waited as Carlos ran the shower and stepped in fully dressed before Carlos pulled him back out.

"Jesus, Cecil. Take your clothes off."

"Cover the mirror?"

He wasn't moving, staying out of sight of his own reflection, and Carlos opened the medicine cabinet to hang another towel over it. Cecil still didn't move, staring off into space like one of his puppies had died, so Carlos gently undressed him and guided him back into the shower. He waited, but all Cecil did was sigh deeply, so Carlos got undressed and in with him, turning him so he was directly under the stream of hot water and rubbing his arms to warm him up. Cecil leaned his forehead against Carlos' shoulder and his own shoulders trembled. Carlos hugged him tightly.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Mom died today."

Well. No wonder he was depressed. Carlos squeezed him tighter and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Does your dad know you're here?" Cecil shrugged. "Ok. We'll call him in a bit. Are you warm?" He got a shake of the head, so they stayed in the shower for a while, until Carlos had turned the cold water down two or three times to keep it warm enough. Then he turned the shower off and rubbed Cecil down with a couple of towels before bundling him in a robe and almost carrying him to the bed.

He'd gotten Cecil into a pair of his sweatpants and one of his nightshirts, and was gently rubbing his friend's feet as he knelt on the floor, when Cecil finally stirred and looked down at him. "You'd make a good sub."

Carlos laughed a little. "What?"

"You'd make a good sub. Submissive. Like, taking orders and stuff."

"Is that a sexual thing? Like bondage?"

He got a shrug. "It doesn't have to be, but yeah. I bet you'd like that. I'd give you the prettiest collar ..."

Carlos didn't respond. He wasn't sure how he felt about all that. He did tend to follow orders when he was with Maria or Cecil, but that was mostly because he had no idea what to do. He'd never really been sexually attracted to anyone before Cecil. His phone lit up and he grabbed it, noting Cecil's number as he answered. "Cecil's ok. He's here with me."

Mr. Palmer's sigh of relief was deep. "Thank you. Don't let him leave." There was a woman's voice in the background. "No, he'll be fine there. Is he fine there? I can -- we can come get him, if we have to."

His speech was a bit halting and a bit slurred, and Carlos frowned. "Uhm, no, he can stay here. Are you alright, sir?"

"I'm a little drunk," Mr. Palmer confessed heavily. "Don't tell Cecil. Did he tell you -- his mother --"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

There was an awkward moment of silence before the woman came on the phone. "Go lay down, Daryl. I'll be there in a minute. Go. Carlos? This is Tamika Carlsberg, Steve's mother. Is Cecil ok to stay with you tonight?"

Mr. Palmer was going to lay down and a woman was going to join him. Carlos added that to the current list of things to not tell Cecil. "Yes, he's fine. I promise. He's warm and dry and I'm going to make him some food in a bit."

She sighed. "Ok. Thank you so much. Apparently he got really upset and ran off. It's not usually this bad with them. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."

"It's ok," Carlos assured her again. "Uhm, I need to feed Cecil ..."

"Right. I'll let you go. Tell him his father loves him. Ah ... If you could not mention that I'm here?"

Secret girlfriend, indeed. Carlos shook his head sharply. "Yeah, sure." No, she just knew how Cecil would react and wanted to spare him the pain and suspicion. It didn't mean she and Mr. Palmer were seeing each other.

"Thank you. Daryl will come get him in the morning. You two ... have as good a night as you can. He'll have a lot of nightmares."

"Ok. Thank you. Goodbye." He hung up and looked over at Cecil, who was lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he breathed shallowly. Carlos wasn't sure it was a good idea to move him, but he also didn't want to come back to slit wrists or something, either. "Your dad says he loves you," he said softly. There was silence. "He was worried about you."

“He’s always worried about me.”

“You give him a lot to be worried about.” Carlos pulled Cecil up and hugged him tightly. “Hey. Want to help me make some food?”

“No.”

He sighed. “Ok. But you’re coming with me to the kitchen anyway.” It was a task, getting Cecil up and walking and down the stairs and into a chair at the kitchen island, but Carlos finally gently guided Cecil’s head to the top of the island and turned it so Cecil could watch him make some dinner for them. His friend’s eyes were glazed over, and even breathing seemed to exhaust him. Carlos thought he might just stop breathing altogether if he could, and that worried him as he cooked. He knew what Cecil’s favorite meal was and, luckily, had the ingredients for it. “I’m making mac and cheese,” he commented over his shoulder. Cecil barely managed a soft grunt. “Just like you like it.” Another grunt. Carlos bit his lip and frowned down at the noodles, giving them a bit of a stir before sitting next to Cecil and gently rubbing between his shoulder blades. Cecil heaved a sigh, but leaned toward Carlos, not away.

“Your parents will be mad that I’m here.”

“My parents will get over it,” Carlos said shortly. “I’m allowed to have friends over, and besides, am I supposed to leave you out in the rain? That’s not very Christian.”

“Neither is homophobia.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not homophobic.”

It took Carlos a moment to realize that the sounds Cecil was making were laughter as his shoulders shook. It relieved him, as confusing as it was, and then Cecil turned his head to look at him. “Honey, you’re _incredibly_ homophobic.”

Carlos stiffened and frowned. “I am not,” he protested.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not. What gave you that idea? I think it should be obvious by now that I’m not homophobic.”

That made Cecil snort. “You can fuck guys and still be homophobic. It’s all in your head, crawling around like maggots -- except maggots only eat rotten flesh so not like maggots, because maggots would eat the homophobia and clean your brain out.” Carlos rolled his eyes, his hand now running through Cecil’s damp hair. “I’ve fucked enough guys that I know what I’m talking about, Carlos. You’ll dance with me, but not in public. You’ll kiss me, but not even when people who know about it are around. You’ll fuck me, but God forbid anyone knows about it. You’ll let me suck you off, but I see the disgust on your face when I even _hint_ that you return the favor. I’m not blind, Carlos. You’re so far in the closet that you’re having tea with the White Witch, and I can smell the internalized homophobia from a mile away.”

Carlos didn’t have an answer, so he got up and stood over the noodles, watching them boil and stirring them as his chest and gut tightened with guilt. There were things he didn’t admit even to himself, and Cecil’s words had hit dangerously close to home -- around about the living room, he would guess. They didn’t say another word until Carlos had dished them up the homemade macaroni and cheese that Cecil adored. He silently handed Cecil the ketchup, and after a few moments, sighed and offered Cecil a bite from his own fork. Only then did the other boy eat, neither of them looking at the other. Once they were done, Carlos took Cecil by the hand and led him upstairs again, his thumb moving gently over Cecil’s soft skin. He got out an unused toothbrush and they brushed their teeth together, and then Cecil hesitated as Carlos pulled back his covers.

“Your parents are going to freak out.”

Carlos didn’t care. He shrugged. “Dad’s out of town and Mom and the girls are at some mother-daughter church thing. They won’t be home until late tomorrow. Your dad’s going to be here in the morning, so they won’t even know you were here. Get in.”

Still, the Native boy hesitated, one hand on the comforter that Carlos’ grandmother had crocheted for him. “I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

That made Carlos fumble a bit as he got in. “I, I didn’t think you did. I wasn’t going to -- I didn’t -- I mean --” He coughed and patted the empty spot next to him. “Jesus, Cecil, you’re a depressed mess. That was the _last_ thing on my mind, honest to God. Just get in so we can go to sleep, please?”

“I fucked Mike tonight.”

Carlos closed his eyes and lay on his back, taking deep breaths. “ _I don’t care,_ ” he ground out between clenched teeth. Cecil was trying to irritate him. He did that when he was especially depressed. He tried to push away anyone who tried to help him when he was in that sort of mood. “Come on, get in.”

He stared at Cecil and Cecil stared back, then crawled in next to Carlos and curled up on his side. “I want you to kiss me.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a demand, an order that Cecil’s trembling lips said he didn’t expect Carlos to follow even as his tone brooked no argument. Carlos considered not obeying, but then he reached out and very gently stroked his fingers down Cecil’s cheek. Cecil flinched like he’d been hit and his lips trembled harder, but his gaze was steady. He shifted and slid his other arm beneath Cecil’s neck and pulled him closer, still stroking his cheek, then tilted his head down and very gently kissed Cecil on the tip of his nose. Then he pulled back and rested his head on his pillow, smiling softly at his friend.

Cecil rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s what you get,” Carlos replied. “Well, maybe this, too …” He kissed Cecil’s forehead, then cheek, then lay back again and gently stroked Cecil’s arm and shoulder. “Ok?”

All Cecil did was curl up into as tight a ball as he could and snuggle into Carlos’ embrace, closing his eyes. Carlos kissed the top of his head before closing his own eyes.

~~~~~

“Mom was so nice,” was the first thing Carlos heard when he woke up. “You would have loved her.” Cecil’s voice was quiet as he lay curled up against Carlos, his head on Carlos’ shoulder and one hand lightly stroking small circles on his chest. “She was so beautiful. Everyone loved her. She could talk to the spirits, too. Once we -- I wanted to braid Dad’s hair before he left for work, and he wouldn’t let me. So, so I asked Mom if I could, and she said yes. She made Dad let us braid his hair and wouldn’t let him take it down for work. She said he had to wear it all day, and he did. She took me to the station to see him -- he’d forgotten his lunch because he was grumpy about the braid -- and his coworkers were teasing him, because I’d put some of those little plastic hair clips in his hair, too. But he just told them that his little boy had done his hair, and they could fuck right the hell off if they didn’t like it.” He laughed a little. “Then Mom scolded him for swearing in front of me.” Carlos smiled and squeezed Cecil’s shoulder. That made him sigh and tilt his head up to nuzzle Carlos’ neck before kissing it gently. “Dad’s always been serious, but he smiled so much when he was with Mom. He still wears his wedding ring.”

“I know,” Carlos murmured. “I’m so sorry, Cecil.”

“I … I’m mad at her.” It was a whisper, full of guilt. Carlos could feel the dampness on his shirt where Cecil’s tears were soaking through. He held him tighter. “I’m so mad at her. I shouldn’t be -- she was protecting me. She was keeping me safe. But I’m _so mad at her_ for dying. I --” He choked up and started crying for real, burying his face in Carlos’ shoulder as he sobbed. Carlos wrapped both arms around him and let him cry, not knowing what to say. He just held Cecil tightly and hoped that that was enough. “Am I bad for that?” Cecil finally asked.

“No,” Carlos murmured firmly. “You’re not. That’s very normal, from what I’ve read. I’d be angry, too.”

“Do you think I’m bad?”

Carlos tilted his head up and kissed his lips gently. “You’re one of the best people I know,” he whispered against them, Cecil’s tears salty on his own lips.

“Your hair is perfect. Did you know that?”

Carls laughed and shook his head. “No. No one’s ever thought my hair was _nice,_ much less perfect.”

“Well, they’re wrong. You’d look great with dreds.” Cecil propped himself up on one elbow and leaned over Carlos, running his fingers lightly over his poofy hair that didn’t know if it wanted to be curly or just frizzy, and so settled for an obnoxious mixture of both. An obnoxious mixture that Cecil apparently loved. It warmed Carlos. He gently pressed kisses along Carlos’ hairline, which made Carlos smile. Cecil looked really good in his shirt. “I still don’t want to have sex,” the boy whispered against his skin.

“Hmm?” Carlos blinked slowly and realized that Cecil’s knee was between his legs, and then he scooted up in a hurry and coughed in embarrassment. “Oh! I’m sorry. No, that wasn’t -- that’s not -- it’s just a morning thing, it’s not, I don’t want, I mean --”

Cecil kissed him on the lips with a soft laugh. “Ok. I get it. I like waking up next to you.”

Carlos liked waking up next to Cecil, too. He didn’t say it, though. He just brushed Cecil’s bangs behind his ear and let his hand travel around to the back of Cecil’s neck, then to his shoulder and down his arm to where his hand rested on Carlos’ chest. He tangled their fingers together and squeezed, smiling up at Cecil. They just looked at each other for a long time, smiling, and then Cecil lowered his forehead to Carlos’ collarbone as the doorbell rang.

“That’ll be Dad.”

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed. He didn’t want to let Cecil go, but the bell rang again and they pushed themselves up. Carlos left Cecil to go answer the door, and offered Mr. Palmer a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Pa--” He was pushed out of the way as Mr. Palmer, in slacks and an old t-shirt stretched across his broad chest and grumpier than usual, walked inside and looked around. “Uhm, Cecil’s getting dressed. I, uhm … How are you?”

He was ignored as Mr. Palmer walked up the stairs two at a time, so he went into the kitchen instead and filled a Tupperware container with the rest of the macaroni and cheese from the previous night. He heard footsteps and turned to the doorway, where Mr. Palmer stood with Cecil, dressed and curled in his arms. They looked at each other for a long moment before Carlos silently handed the Tupperware over. Mr. Palmer took it with a nod, then turned and left the house. Carlos walked after him and watched from the doorway as he got Cecil into the cruiser, then sighed and closed the door once they’d driven off. He walked slowly back to his room and sat heavily on his bed, looking at the rumpled sheets where Cecil had lain before holding his head in his hands and staring at the floor. 

Cecil had been right about everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and keeping up with me. I really appreciate all of you.
> 
> As usual, I have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/). Sometimes I remember to update there.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is best dad? Mr. Palmer is best dad. Also, a bit 'o the sexy-sexies.
> 
> *** NOTE ***  
> I'd be lying if I said I was actively writing Company Policy, BUT, I haven't given it up. Sorry.

Cecil’s bed was warm. So was Cecil. Warm, and naked. So very, very naked. Carlos’ body did the now-familiar heart-clench/stomach-twist that came with being intimate with Cecil, or seeing him undressed, or sometimes even just thinking about him. It was a problem. The heart-clench was fine, the butterflies in his stomach were tolerable, the shortness of breath was survivable. Carlos really didn’t mind those. Most of the time. He hadn’t minded them enough the past three nights to go back home, where his parents thought he was staying the last week before school started again at Marcus’. The stomach twists made him nauseous, though. He felt sick with guilt, both for lying to his parents and for continuing to have sex with his friend -- his _male_ friend. It was wrong, and he shouldn’t like it so much, shouldn’t _need_ it like he did.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, idly stroking Cecil’s hair. The other boy’s head rested on his shoulder, one hand curled on his chest as he slept. His leg was between Carlos’ thighs, and his breath was soft as he shifted slightly. Carlos looked down to see if he was awake yet. Touching him was easier to do when the other boy wasn’t awake. Cecil was staring blankly across the room and Carlos looked back up at the ceiling. It was convenient that he liked to sleep on his back and Cecil liked to sleep on his side. A bit too convenient. It was too easy to pull Cecil on top of him in the mornings, or when one of them woke up in the night and that woke the other one up.

“You’re awfully calm,” he said quietly. Usually Cecil started fidgeting as soon as he woke up, though he slept like a rock. There was no reply, and Carlos looked down again. Cecil’s breathing was deep and even, while his eyes stayed open. Carlos brought his free hand up to Cecil’s face, to the point of touching his eyelashes, but he didn’t so much as twitch, and his pupils didn’t focus, either. He was still fast asleep, and Carlos looked away quickly. They’d had a cat, once, who had slept with her eyes open. It had been creepy then, and it was creepier now. Carlos shifted and rolled onto his side, laying Cecil on his back. He didn’t close his eyes with the movement, so Carlos gently covered them, closing his eyelids like he was dead as he shivered, then crossed himself. Cecil wasn’t dead. He didn’t even _look_ dead. He hadn’t talked about death in the four days Carlos had been over, either. Yes, he was calm and utterly still, but that was how he slept, and he didn’t look like he was laid out for his funeral, and Carlos, fed up with his morbid thoughts, leaned down and kissed his beautiful friend firmly.

“Mmph!” Cecil jerked in surprise as that woke him up, and rather than pushing Carlos away, his first reaction was to wrap his arms around Carlos’ shoulders and kiss him back as his back arched up and he wiggled to the side, trying to get under Carlos.

Carlos obliged him, kissing down his neck as he settled between Cecil’s legs and gently rested his weight on the slighter boy. Cecil let out a soft sigh, almost a whine, and dragged his nails down Carlos’ back. “I just wanted you to close your eyes,” Carlos gasped, reflexively biting Cecil’s soft skin, making him whimper and shudder.

“Well, fuck, just pinch me next time,” was the reply as they shifted against each other.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Cecil laughed, one of his fists buried in Carlos’ hair and pulling. “All these hickeys say something else, sweetie. Would you just kiss me, already?”

He _really_ wanted Cecil to reach for the condoms and lube. Instead, he shook his head. “God, no. Morning breath? Have you heard of it?”

That made Cecil groan. “ _Fine._ Mmmph …”

He pulled Carlos up to cover his face with kisses, then pushed him out of his way and rolled them both over, pressing closed lips to Carlos’ as he straddled his hips. Carlos struggled to sit up and leaned back against the wall before pulling Cecil tightly against him. One of Cecil’s hands had wandered between them as Carlos pressed kisses and gentle bites to his chest -- he had discovered the previous night, to his horror and pleasure both, that he was no longer averse to touching or kissing Cecil’s very unfeminine chest. He quite enjoyed it, actually. The planes and angles, Cecil’s soft, smooth skin -- they were far more appealing than Maria’s body. Cecil squeezed him firmly and Carlos flung his arm out as he groaned louder than he’d intended to, trying to open the desk drawer that housed Cecil’s lube and condoms. He pulled away to look at what he was doing and Cecil started sucking on his neck, laughing quietly to himself. He liked to see if he could make Carlos grab for the supplies first.

Carlos had just wrapped his hand around the bottle of lube when Cecil’s father pounded on the door, making them both yell and jump in surprise. “Get up, boy! Your boyfriend moving in doesn’t mean you don’t have to do your chores.”

Cecil threw himself off of Carlos with a curse, scrambling for his bathrobe as Carlos reached for his night clothes. “I’m up, sir!” he called back. “Getting dressed! Need to shower!” There was an inaudible grumble as Mr. Palmer walked off, then Cecil turned to Carlos with a flush darkening his already tan cheeks. “Uhm, I’m sorry about that. He knows we’re not -- that you’re not my -- He’s just grumpy.” He gestured to Carlos’ hips. “I’ll, uh, make that up to you later. I’ve gotta shower before he gets mad.” He slipped out of the room as Carlos finished pulling his t-shirt on. “Good morning, Dad! I’m up, see? Getting in the shower! Excited to do chores!” He started singing off-key as he turned the shower on.

Carlos sat back on the bed as he waited for Cecil to finish his shower so he could take one. Mr. Palmer appeared in the doorway, glowering at him. He was in uniform, but his shirt was draped over one arm and the white undershirt he wore stretched tightly across his chest. Carlos looked up, then down quickly, pretending not to notice. “Are you two out of condoms?” The man’s casual acceptance of his son’s sex life still threw Carlos for a loop. He shrugged, lowering his head and hunching his shoulders. “Well, look.”

“I don’t …” Carlos trailed off and sighed. It was useless to try to convince Mr. Palmer that he and Cecil weren’t having sex. He knew the truth already. Cecil probably told him all the details, even though when Carlos had haltingly asked, he’d claimed that he only told the man it happened, and nothing else. He leaned over and looked in the still-open drawer. “Almost,” he whispered.

Mr. Palmer grunted. “And lube?”

“… half a bottle …”

“That’s not going to last too long, at the rate you two are going,” the man grumbled. “Boy needs a job.” He stepped into the room and crouched in front of Carlos. “Look at me, boy.” The most Carlos could manage was flicking his gaze to and from Mr. Palmer, but he seemed to accept that. “I know that you and Cecil are having sex. You know that, right?” Carlos nodded as his heart skipped more beats than was strictly healthy and his hands started shaking. “I don’t like it. I think you’re very bad for Cecil in the long run, no matter how good you are for him in the short run. I don’t want you to sleep with him, but I can’t do a damn thing about it. He’ll do as he pleases -- with or without my consent or knowledge -- and I would rather I _knew_ what he was up to, so I can make sure he’s as safe as possible. Are you moving in?”

Carlos started at the question and finally met Mr. Palmer’s eyes. He’d asked it in a softer tone of voice than Carlos had ever heard him use, and his scowl had turned into what looked like a concerned frown. On anyone else, Carlos would have thought the man was worried about him. “Uhm, no? Why would I be?”

“Because your parents have made it very clear -- to both of us, I think -- that if they catch you having sex with another boy, they’ll kick you out.” Carlos’ heart skipped a few more beats and he wondered if he was having a heart-attack as he nodded shakily. Mr. Palmer sighed. “I wish I could arrest them for that alone,” he murmured to himself as he looked to the side. Then he turned back to Carlos and ran a hand through his silvering black hair. “Don’t get yourself kicked out for having sex with a boy, Carlos. But you’re welcome to stay here if that happens.”

“I wouldn’t,” Carlos protested. “Not at home.” The thought of having sex with Cecil at home filled him with panic. “I don’t -- they wouldn’t really kick me out. My parents love me. They’d be angry, yeah, they’d ground me or whatever. But they wouldn’t kick me … out …” He trailed off at Mr. Palmer’s soft sigh and the look of sympathy on his face. “... would they?”

“You would be surprised at how many loving parents kick their children out because they’re queer,” the man replied quietly as the shower shut off and Cecil’s off-key singing stopped. Mr. Palmer cleared his throat and stood up. “Just be a good boyfriend to my son.”

He left before Carlos could protest that he and Cecil weren’t dating, but in hindsight, it was probably better that Mr. Palmer thought they were. Better to be thought boyfriends than fuck buddies. He listened as Cecil said goodbye to his father in the living room, then got up and shuffled to the bathroom. He glared at the covered mirror before ripping the towel off, then yelled and jumped back at the sight of the huge, inky-black shape in the living room. He whirled around as Cecil ran up, eyes huge.

“Cover that up!” He ducked down and grabbed the towel, then held it up in front of him as he stood and covered the mirror again. Carlos’ heart was pounding in his chest and he kept looking from the now-covered mirror to the empty living room. Cecil whirled on him, eyes narrowed in anger. “Don’t you _ever_ uncover that mirror, Carlos. God damn it, you could have gotten _really fucking hurt._ ”

It had been a trick of the light. He’d just … it had been an optical illusion. Carlos let Cecil yell at him for a little bit longer as he waited for his heart to stop racing, then he nodded. “Ok. I’m sorry. I won’t … I’m sorry, Cecil.”

He got a tight hug. “I love you,” Cecil said firmly. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Carlos tried to laugh, but it came out a bit strangled. He was going to have nightmares about the roiling blackness that had been where he’d seen Cecil standing. “I, uh … I’m ok, Cecil. I just … It wasn’t anything. I was just seeing things.”

Cecil pulled back and looked at him sadly, then leaned up and kissed him. “I love you,” he repeated. “I don’t want you getting hurt.” He stepped back and cleared his throat. “Anyway. Uhm. I’ve gotta do my chores. You, uh, like, don’t know how to fix roofs, do you? Because it’s leaking again, and you don’t have to help, but it would be nice if Dad came home and didn’t have to do it. I’m not allowed up high, see. I tried to …” He cleared his throat again and turned away quickly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “You want a blowjob?” he asked quietly. “Because Dad interrupted us and all …”

Carlos had already put together that Cecil got suicidal in his more depressed periods and had been set to reassure his friend until Cecil’s question made him choke on his words. Then he rolled his eyes and hugged the boy from behind. “No,” he lied. “Why would I want that after you just told me you’ve tried to jump off your roof?”

“I _did_ jump,” Cecil mumbled.

“See? That’s not the sort of thing that makes me want … that.” Carlos turned Cecil around and hugged him more tightly. “I’ll fix the roof if you guys have the supplies I’ll need. I work in construction, you know.” Cecil nodded, arms still across his chest, his cheek resting on Carlos’ shoulder. “Ok. Let me shower. I won’t take the towel down again, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Cecil shuffled out of the bathroom and Carlos showered quickly. There was breakfast on the table when he was done and he got through half of it before kissing Cecil became more of a priority, and then undressing Cecil was an important thing he had to do, and after that he really needed to carry Cecil -- legs wrapped tightly around his waist -- back to the bedroom to finish what they’d started that morning. Then a mutual shower was in order, which started the process over again. All in all, it was almost noon before they both stumbled outside. Mr. Palmer had left a long list of chores for Cecil to do, probably in a half-hearted attempt to keep them out of the bedroom while he was gone, and Carlos frowned at it as Cecil poked idly at the ground with a stick, a ridiculously floppy neon yellow bow holding his hair out of his face.

“Here,” he said as he numbered the list. “You start these and I’ll start on the roof. Ok? Just do one at a time. Once I’m done with the roof, I’ll help.”

“I love you.”

Carlos coughed, embarrassed, as Cecil took the list. “Uh, yeah. Just … just do them quickly.”

The leak in the roof wasn’t hard to patch at all. Carlos finished quickly and took half the list of chores from Cecil. Between the two of them, they were finished by late afternoon. They showered again -- separately, this time -- and then Cecil wanted to watch movies. Carlos was fine with that. They stretched out on the couch together, Carlos propped up against the arm and Cecil laying back against him, with popcorn and snacks and Cecil’s oversized blanket covering them.

When Mr. Palmer got home a few hours later, that was how he found them, fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a boys' night, Marcus is a master detective, and Carlos is an ass.

Cecil had been right about not needing a tutor after midterms if he passed, which meant he and Carlos didn’t see each other that often anymore. He’d gotten the intern position, anyway, and was always surrounded by new friends whenever Carlos saw him in the halls. Sometimes they talked on the phone, but while their conversations were always interesting, between both of them having jobs, they never lasted long. Cecil’s breathless tardies continued, and Carlos had started keeping a mental note of all the possible guys he could be sleeping with.

No -- He stopped himself. Cecil wasn’t _sleeping_ with anyone. Cecil was fucking them -- or getting fucked. And it bothered Carlos. It bothered him _so much._ He couldn’t understand how Cecil could be _ok_ with having sex with people who meant nothing to him. It wasn’t as if _Cecil_ had anything to hide. _Cecil_ didn’t care if anyone knew he was gay. Cecil was extremely attractive, too, and kind, and sociable, and witty. People _liked_ Cecil. Cecil was all that, and willing to not out the guys who didn’t want to be outed …

Carlos slammed his book shut with a scowl. Cecil, Cecil, Cecil. He could hardly think about anything else. Staying the week before winter break had ended with him had been a mistake on so many levels. He thought about Cecil’s skin constantly, now. His smell, his taste, his touch. He wanted to be the only one Cecil slept with. He wanted to be better than the others. He didn’t want to use his friend.

“I’m so fucking done with this,” he finally growled.

Marcus looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Did you finally get an assignment you can’t do?”

Yelling in the hallway kept Carlos from answering for a moment. Juana wanted to wear pants to church the next day. Their mother was having none of it -- Juana was still grounded after having one of her friends give her a pixie cut, and wearing pants would make her look more like a boy. They continued their argument down the stairs.

“No. I just … miss Maria.”

Marcus nodded wisely, as if he knew what it was like to be in a long-distance relationship. Not that Carlos knew, either; but he knew what it was like to want someone he couldn’t -- shouldn’t -- have. He knew what it was like to be irrationally jealous whenever that someone walked by, arm-in-arm with another guy, or when they came running in late to class, their face flushed and hair messy.

Carlos had decided that he hated jealousy.

“Well, maybe we can visit over summer break. It’s not the Bahamas, but New York’s alright.”

“And how am _I_ supposed to get there?” Carlos snorted. “ _My_ parents don’t have the money.”

The look Marcus gave him spoke volumes. “That’s why you have rich friends like me, of course. Dad will pay. I don’t want to be around him and that woman, anyway.”

Marcus’ father had married his girlfriend over winter break -- that was why Marcus had gone to India, to attend the wedding. She was tall and pale and blonde and he hated her, and Carlos got the feeling that the dislike was mutual. Marcus threw his video game controller down in disgust as he died, failing to beat Juana’s high score yet again, and turned it off before rolling onto his back and kicking the chair Carlos was studying in. “So … what’s up with you and that Native weirdo?”

Carlos’ pencil snapped as he tensed, and he muttered a curse. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Marcus sighed as he sat up, “what’s up with you two? The guy’s totally in love with you. And you usually spend a lot of time with him. Don’t think I don’t know that you told your parents you were at my house over break. You stayed with him, didn’t you? Are you two dating or what? I won’t tell if you are -- _I_ don’t give a crap who you fuck. You just spend a lot of time together.”

Great. Even his best friend thought he was gay. Carlos shook his head. “He’s just a friend. I was tutoring him. And I’m not gay.”

“Yeah, well, aside from you being a terrible liar, there’s this thing called ‘bisexuality.’ It means you’re into guys _and_ girls. It’s pretty awesome. All the cool kids are doing it. Are you staying over tonight?”

“If that’s ok. Are you saying you’re bi?”

Marcus laughed. “I’m one of the cool kids, aren’t I?”

“That’s debatable. Money doesn’t make you cool.”

“Yes, it does. It makes you cooler than you could ever imagine. _You_ just don’t take advantage of it. So, you’re _not_ fucking Cecil? Huh. You’re one of the few who hasn’t.” Marcus was choosing another game and Carlos turned to look at him, hoping that he could keep an even face for once in his life. He really _was_ a bad liar.

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean,_ the guy gets around. He’s a total slut. _Really_ good in bed, from what I hear, and a mouth like a fucking Hoover, but you don’t get _that_ good without a _lot_ of practice.”

Hearing all that from Marcus was more infuriating than hearing it from Cecil, even if Carlos knew it was true already. He glowered at his friend. “And where did you hear all _that_ gossip?”

Marcus shot him a speculative look, then shrugged. “Aside from Cecil himself? All the guys he’s fucked, and some of the girls. And those are just the ones who talk about it -- Cecil likes fucking straight guys and guys who are in the closet, so he may well have fucked all the guys in school by now. I can’t blame him. He’s weird and creepy and probably on drugs, but he’s hot. Not quite my type, but maybe I should hit him up …”

“ _No,_ ” Carlos almost yelled as he turned sharply. Then his cheeks burned and he looked down. “I mean, uhm …”

Marcus had jerked around in surprise, and stared at Carlos. “Wow. I’ve never seen someone so jealous over someone they’re not even attracted to. Fine. Because you’re my friend, I won’t fuck him. Happy?”

“No,” Carlos mumbled. “I’m not jealous. Cecil’s just … He’s got issues. Sleeping around won’t fix them.”

“Yeah, his mother dying probably messed him up a lot.” Marcus turned back to his game. “If _I’d_ watched my mom get murdered --”

“ _What?_ ”

Marcus sighed, shut the console off, and turned around _again_ with a frown. “Oh, right. You weren’t here for it. It was a huge thing.”

“But … I thought … Cecil said she fell …”

Marcus snorted. “Carlos, they found pieces of her a quarter mile away from where she died. _Little_ pieces. Cecil said she _fell?_ ”

That made Carlos frown as he thought back to that distant conversation. “Well … he said it had been raining, and he was at the edge of a ravine, and that she took his place. I just …”

“Assumed she’d fallen.” Marcus shrugged. “Nope. She was _butchered. Eaten,_ and not just by animals. The teeth marks were human -- well, human enough. Cecil said the wendigo took her, but what else was he going to say? The Navajo Nation tried to keep the FBI out of it, but couldn't after they’d confirmed that a human had chewed on her. They took the dad in for a bit, but couldn’t pin it on him. Cecil’s never said who killed her.” He shook his head as Carlos stared at him in horror. “So, yeah, he’s gotta be pretty fucked up. But hey, if sleeping around’s his way of coping, you know? At least he hasn’t killed anyone. Yet. On second thought, I think I _won’t_ fuck him.”

“You already said you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, well, I was lying. You know, that thing that _you_ can’t do? But this time I mean it. But seriously, don’t get involved with him. He’s bad news -- weird shit always happens around him.” Marcus stretched, popping his back, as Carlos flashed back to Erika and that horrifying shape he’d seen in Cecil’s bathroom mirror with a shiver. “You don’t care that I’m bi?”

“Oh, you weren’t lying about that?” Carlos asked sarcastically. Marcus flipped him off. “No. Why would I?”

“Because you’re Mister Good, Uptight Catholic Boy.”

Carlos shook his head. “I’m not even sure God exists. I’m more concerned as to why your name is ‘Marcus Vansten’ when your parents immigrated from India.” He’d always meant to ask, but hadn’t wanted to be rude.

His friend laughed. “Cultural assimilation. ‘Jagdeep Patel’ doesn’t command as much respect from the crackers as ‘Marcus Vansten’ does. Mom and Dad knew I’d have a tougher time with an Indian name, so they gave me an American one -- well, a white one. Fuckin’ racist white people.”

“Your stepmom’s white.”

“And I _hate_ the bitch!” Marcus yelled. “She could be my older sister, Carlos. She’s twenty-three years younger than Dad. _Fuck._ He used to tell Mom she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and then he marries the whitest woman he can find after she dies? What the fuck sort of shit is _that?_ ” His lower lip was trembling and his fists were clenched. Carlos had never seen Marcus so upset, so he slid out of his chair and hugged him. Marcus stiffened. “Wha--”

“You need a hug.” He was broader across the chest and shoulders than Cecil was, Carlos noted. Marcus relaxed and hugged him back, forehead resting on his shoulder as his grip tightened. It felt good to hug someone. It felt _really_ good. Carlos thought that maybe he should find more people to hug.

After a minute or so, Marcus pulled back with a sniffle. He sighed, and his smile was faint. “Thanks. Didn’t think you were the hugging type.”

“I was tutoring Cecil three times a week. If he doesn’t have an existential crisis at least _one_ of those days, he’s not feeling well. I mean, less well than usual. Hugs calm him down.”

Marcus snorted lightly and shook his head. “Yeah, it’s totally not an excuse to touch you. Totally.”

It was Carlos’ turn to laugh. “It’s not, but he never lets the opportunity for a hug go by.” Or a kiss. A lot of kisses. Carlos missed kissing Cecil. “I really don’t know what he sees in me.”

“He likes the straight boys. No emotional attachment. He _really_ doesn’t like emotional attachments.”

That made Carlos frown as he thought back on his relationship with Cecil, even just that last week of winter break. “So why does he say he loves _me?_ ”

Marcus shrugged. “Because he’s crazier than a shithouse rat? Or maybe he really does love you. I don’t try to understand that guy. Does it bug you?”

It should have. It should have _really_ bugged him. Every look, every smile, every chanced touch, every kiss, every time they had sex -- none of it bothered him except for the guilt. He liked it. He wished that he and Cecil could spend more time alone together.

Which, upon very little inspection, was the absolute _worst_ reaction Carlos could be having to another guy’s affection and desire for him. He should be running _away_ from Cecil, not thinking of ways to get closer to him.

“Not as much as my parents wish it would,” he finally answered.

“Well, just don’t get caught messing around with him, if you decide to try dick.” Marcus turned back to his game, clearly done with the conversation, and Carlos grabbed a pillow from his bed and smacked him with it. “Hey!”

“Don’t say shit like that. My parents might hear you and then I’ll be screwed.” There was more yelling in the hallway -- Carlos’ father had been pulled into the church clothes debate. “Come on, let’s get out of here. These people are driving me crazy.” He stood and grabbed a few things for overnight, then opened his door and ducked a wild hand gesture from his father. “Hey!” He was ignored, and slipped past his parents and Juana. “I’m staying at Marcus’ tonight!” he called over his shoulder as Marcus followed him. “See you later!”

“I don’t think they heard you.”

Carlos shrugged, kneeling down to give the three younger girls hugs and kisses as they hid from the fight downstairs. “You all be good. I don’t care. I’ll text them from your place.” He hesitated as they walked out the door. “Uhm … Wanna go do something? Get some pizza?”

Marcus laughed. “What’s this? You’re being _willingly social?_ Yeah -- let’s go score some chicks and dicks.”

“Or just pizza.”

They got in Marcus’ car as he snorted. “Come on, live a _little_ more than not asking permission to stay over _and_ wanting to actually do shit. Let’s get pizza _and_ see a movie. Let’s stay up _and_ out past ten. Come on, Carlos. I don’t want to be at my place any more than you want to be at yours.”

“Well, you’re the one driving, and it’s your car. I’m at your mercy.”

“Yeah!” Marcus grinned at him and Carlos grinned back. “We’ll see a movie, then hit up the All-Nite. There’s bound to be a fight if we stay late enough.” His cackle was positively evil; Marcus _loved_ watching drunken fights at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner.

“All right, but tip the server this time or _we’ll_ be fighting. You’re an absolute dick to wait staff and you need to make up for it.”

He got waved off. “Oh, please. It’s their _job,_ Carlos.”

“And they make _less_ than minimum wage! If you’re not tipping, it’s like _they’re_ paying _you_ to eat there.”

“One,” Marcus said firmly, “I like the idea of being paid to eat at restaurants. Two, it’s not _my_ fault they’re not paid enough. Why do _I_ have to pick up their employer’s slack?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Because it’s _basic fucking decency,_ you absolute asshole. And _you_ can afford it! And if you _don’t_ start tipping,” he threatened, “I’m going to tell my mother. And _she_ will _kill_ you.”

“Fuck,” Marcus grumbled as he pulled up to the line of cars waiting at the drive-in. Carlos’ mother had been a waitress up until very recently, and few things terrified Marcus more than Mrs. Garcia in a rage. “ _Fine._ I’ll let _you_ handle the tip.”

“Score one for the poors,” Carlos laughed. “I’m going to give our server a thirty dollar tip. What are we seeing?”

“That new horror flick looks good.” Marcus rolled his window down to get their tickets, then pulled forward toward the right lot. “Come on, let’s get some snacks.” They got out and Marcus bumped into Carlos. “Since I’m paying for tonight, does this make you my trophy boyfriend?” Carlos shoved him into a pole, then dodged a punch before getting him into a headlock, dragging him across the parking lot as Marcus laughed and tried to get free. “I’m going to tell your parents you went to a movie if you don’t let me go, asshole.”

“Ooh, tell them we went to the porn theater.” Carlos let him go and they exchanged punches. “That’d be _great._ They won’t know whether to kill me for watching porn or rejoice in my straightness.”

“Naw, I’ll tell them we watched gay porn.”

“I’ll push you into traffic, Marcus, I swear to God.” Marcus laughed. “Really. I mean it. Don’t _even_ tease.”

“See, if you were my trophy boyfriend, it wouldn’t matter.” Marcus backed through the snack bar door, ignoring the people he bumped into and the dirty looks he got for it. “If you got kicked out, I could set you up with a nice apartment, get you a better wardrobe, maybe a haircut …”

“I’m a man of principle,” Carlos sniffed as he smoothed his flannel shirt. “My affections can’t be bought.”

They inched forward with the line as Marcus rolled his eyes. Carlos liked the drive-in. There was more energy to it than a regular theater, and he liked being able to get up and move around when he wanted to. The owners threatened to shut it down every year, but the community always turned out in droves to keep it in business. There were seven screens, a playground, and you could see two movies for less than the price of a regular theater’s ticket -- and, if you stayed after the second movie on a Friday or a Saturday, they always played the first one again.

Carlos shivered in the breeze from the constantly-opening doors. “Get me some hot cocoa, sugar daddy.”

Marcus snorted. “You can’t get the benefits of being a trophy boyfriend without actually _being_ a trophy boyfriend. Yeah, a large popcorn, two of the big hot dogs, and two hot cocoas, sweetie. There’s a good girl,” he said to the snack bar attendant. Her smile tightened and Carlos hit his shoulder. “Whaaaaat?!”

“She’s an employee, not a _dog,_ you insufferable _dick._ I’m sorry,” he apologized as the girl giggled. “He’s a jerk. He can’t help it; he’s rich.”

“It’s ok.”

“ _See?!_ ”

“She’s _paid_ to be nice to jerks like you,” Carlos snapped.

Marcus huffed and handed Carlos his share of the food. “You know what? I don’t _want_ you to be my trophy boyfriend anymore. I’m not even sure I want you to be my _friend._ I need someone who will appreciate and respect my social position and wealth.”

“You mean fawn mindlessly over you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

They got back to the car as the previews were starting. After the third one, Carlos turned to his friend. “I just thought of a great drinking game.”

“Really?” Marcus sipped at his hot cocoa. “Do tell.”

“When you’re watching a movie, take a drink for each preview that stars a white person. Two for every non-white sidekick or villain. And like ten for every stereotype of non-white or non-straight people.”

Marcus just stared at him for a moment. “That’s not a drinking game, Carlos. That’s liver failure.” Then he started laughing.

“Well, it can be a mandatory white person game. Maybe _then_ we’d get some better media representation.”

Marcus doubled over with laughter as Carlos grinned and texted his parents to let them know he was staying with Marcus. They didn’t stop talking through both movies -- a cheesy romance followed by the equally-cheesy horror flick -- which was another reason Carlos loved the drive-in. With the windows rolled up, he and Marcus could be as loud as they wanted without bothering anyone. And they got _loud._ They yelled, discussed plot holes, mocked the characters, and made up their own dialogue. Their friends and families hated watching movies with them, which was why Carlos and Marcus went to the drive-in together. They could be as obnoxious as they wanted, there.

Almost four hours later, they were driving out of the parking lot, making growly monster noises at each other and laughing. The movie had completely ripped off the ROUS scene from The Princess Bride -- a favorite of both of theirs -- at which point the gloves had come off and they’d torn the rest of the movie to shreds.

“There is _no_ way they wouldn’t have put together that they’d built their house over the nest. Who sees they have a demon-infested basement and _stays_ in the house?!”

“White people,” Marcus replied. “Jesus, Gloria heard something in the attic the other night and wanted Dad to check it out. I told her she was crazy -- if it was an animal, we could put out poison in the daytime. If it was a person, we’d hear them when they left. But Jesus Christ, why go up _alone,_ in the _dark?_ ”

“Mom and Dad heard stuff in the attic, once. They called the priest to bless the house.”

“See? Brown people have their shit together.” Marcus turned toward the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. “Still, we wouldn’t have horror movies without white people’s stupidity, so, thanks, white people. God bless ya.”

Carlos groaned suddenly. “ _Shit._ We have a new priest starting tomorrow. Apparently he’s trained to do exorcisms.”

“No way. Really? That’s awesome. The Catholic Church still does exorcisms?”

“Well, the Mexican one does, at least. We imported him. Ten bucks says my parents try to get him to exorcise the gay out of me.”

“They’d have to get the gay _in_ you first, unless you just made a confession.” Marcus did a bad impression of the sign of the cross at Carlos. “Bless you, my gay child.”

Carlos sighed as they parked. “Why doesn’t anyone believe me? I’m not … I’m not saying I am. But why won’t you all _believe_ me?”

Marcus sighed and turned toward him, a slight frown on his face as he looked his friend over. “Are you serious? I mean, you really want to know?”

“Jesus, stop acting like someone died.” Carlos slumped lower in his seat.

“Well, you tend to freak out when people ask about your sexuality,” Marcus reminded him gently, “and I don’t want to get yelled at. Again.”

Carlos stared into the restaurant. “Just tell me.” There were two men sitting in the booth in front of them. The younger man was laughing as he gestured excitedly, then ran his hands through his shoulder-length black hair and pulled it into a small ponytail. A few chunks of it escaped and fell forward, partially obscuring the strong line of his jaw.

“Well, for one, you’re totally checking out that hot guy right there.” Carlos looked down sharply as his cheeks burned. “You don’t pay attention to girls the way you do guys. You _watch_ guys. It’s nothing creepy, it’s just … obvious. _That’s_ a guy thing,” Marcus assured him. “Guys are just obvious when we’re checking someone out. It’s actually kind of cute when _you_ do it, because you don’t _realize_ you’re doing it, and then you get all flustered when someone points it out. And your little tiny weenie voice is totally gay. Plus, you make woobly eyes at Cecil like no woobly eyes I’ve ever seen. It’s like, damn, just confess your undying love and fuck him, already.”

“Look, even if I _was_ gay -- which I’m _not_ \-- it’s not like I could come out. My parents would kick me out and disown me, my church would probably excommunicate me … I’d lose more than I’d gain.” Carlos finally got out of the car and Marcus followed suit. “And my voice doesn’t sound gay!”

“Yes, it does. Do you really care that much about your church? Two, toots.” That was said to the hostess. Marcus walked backward as he talked. “You’re pretty much an atheist.”

They were sat two booths down from the handsome Latino man and his friend. “I care about my community. Uh, a Dr Pepper, please. Thank you.”

“Yeah, me, too. Look, any community who would kick you out for being gay isn’t a real community. Hypothetically speaking, ‘cause you’re not gay.”

Marcus had brought in the backpack of games that he kept in his car, and was pulling them out. Carlos grabbed Uno and opened it. The Latino man was waving a book around, now, as he talked in a pleasantly low voice. “Yeah, but they’re all I have.”

“Stop staring.”

“What?”

“You’re staring. You’re doing the guy thing where we stare at people we think are hot. Yeah, he’s pretty fine, but put your eyes back in your head. Oh, you _asshole._ A draw four right off the bat? You dick.”

“You deserve it,” Carlos grumbled, looking back down at his cards.

“I’m gonna tell Cecil you’re cheating on him. He’ll cry.”

“Well, he’s got a lot of people to help him get over it. What do you want to eat?”

“Banana split. So, look, I was serious about going to New York this summer. You can get away from your family, explore a bit, maybe meet a guy … I mean, if you wanted to experiment and totally confirm your straightness. Ha! Green!”

Carlos threw down a wild card and Marcus swore. “Blue. You’re forgetting that I _just_ turned sixteen. I’m not exactly old enough to be running around New York on my own.”

“You’d have _me_ there, you jackass -- stop with the reverses! -- and fake I.D.s are a thing.”

“I’d rather not break the law. I’ll be taking a lot of college courses over the summer, too. And I don’t need to sleep with a complete stranger to know I don’t like guys. I mean, have _you_ been with anyone?”

Marcus shrugged. “Uhm … not any guys. Not yet.”

“But you know you want to.”

“Yeah.”

Carlos kicked his friend under the table. “Uno! So don’t pull this ‘you won’t know if you like it until you try it’ shit. It’s sexual attraction, not food.”

That made Marcus laugh. “Yeah, but pussy tastes good.”

“Jesus _Christ,_ Marcus, we’re in _public._ ” Carlos looked around to make sure that no one had heard. The handsome man was covering his mouth as he laughed, but he didn’t seem to be laughing at Marcus. He caught Carlos looking at him, though, and winked. Carlos ducked his head.

“Doesn’t make it not true. You gonna keep staring, or play the damn game?”

Carlos laid his final card down and Marcus swore again. “You’re such a sore loser.”

“Fuck you, man. Let’s play something else.”

“Something you can actually win?” Carlos grinned.

“Yeah. Something I can actually win.”

They stayed for another couple of hours, until it was clear that Marcus wasn’t going to get his fight. He took it good-naturedly, making their waitress promise to start a fight the next time they were in, if she had to. It was almost three by the time they’d gotten back to Marcus’ house, which was late enough for Marcus to indulge in his secret passion for Hindi dramas. They settled in his king-sized bed and he explained all the twists and turns to Carlos, who was trying not to laugh at his friend’s dedication.

He had other things on his mind soon enough, though, and stared down at the comforter. “You know … even if I _did_ sleep with a guy, it wouldn’t make me gay.”

Marcus was trying to cry as inconspicuously as possible, and gulped back tears as he looked at Carlos. “Huh?”

“Having sex doesn’t mean you’re sexually attracted to the person. Your body reacts to stimulation. It doesn’t mean that, that you _want_ it. Or them.”

He wasn’t looking up, and Marcus was quiet for a few moments before he put two and three together and got five, at which point he let out an excited whoop and leapt up, yelling gibberish as he bounced up and down and pointed at Carlos. Carlos threw the covers over his head, but Marcus jumped on him and shook him as he cackled.

“You did it! Aaaaah! Dude, you fucked a guy! Oh my God! When? Where? _Who?!_ Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Oh my God! Was it good? What did you do? Come on, man, _spill!_ ”

“Get off!” Carlos begged. He covered his head with a pillow. “Nothing happened! I didn’t do anything! It’s not -- it wasn’t --”

“Liar! You motherfucking shithead cocksucking liar! Oh God, did you?! Did you blow him? _Carlooooos!_ ” Marcus buried his way beneath the covers and lay on top of Carlos, slapping and pinching him as he continued to cackle. “Come on, tell me! I won’t tell anyone!”

He wanted to tell. It was driving him crazy, not being able to talk to anyone about his relationship with, and mixed feelings for, Cecil. Carlos took a deep breath as his heart pounded and his gut clenched. He felt like he was going to be sick. “It was Cecil.”

Marcus choked on his excitement. He rolled off of Carlos and kicked his feet with a squeal of glee before pulling the covers over their heads again. “Of course! I knew it would be,” he whispered. Carlos groaned. “How was it? When did it happen? _What_ happened? Was it just once? No wonder you’re so messed up about him. I can’t _believe_ that _you_ fucked a guy before I did. I’m so mad at you.”

Carlos’ laugh was nervous, and he didn’t move the pillow from his head. “Uhm … prom night …” Marcus squealed with excitement again. He sounded ridiculous. “It was … I … I don’t know.”

“Oh, come _on._ What did you guys do? Who started it? Don’t leave me hanging, Carlos.”

“Why, so you can beat off to it later? Look, it happened, all right? We … It happened. I don’t know. I just … He’s so … Ugh, and he tells his dad _everything._ His dad _knows._ And he’s mad. He’s going to kill me. He doesn’t want me _near_ Cecil. Have you _met_ him, Marcus?! The man’s a fucking _tank._ And if my parents find out, I’m _dead._ ”

“I doubt Cecil’s dad will tell anyone. If he did, Cecil might get in trouble -- and he’s one cold motherfucker, but he won’t let _anyone_ hurt Cecil. Broke a guy’s arm when CPS took him, apparently.”

That made Carlos peek out from under the pillow with a frown. “CPS took Cecil?”

“Yeah, when his mom died. They arrested his dad for a bit, and put Cecil in foster care. I mean, nothing came of it and it was only for a few months, but _apparently,_ when they arrested Mr. Palmer, Cecil freaked out when they told him he was going to a foster home and his dad just lost his shit. Damn near overturned a car, from what Dad told me, and put a couple officers in the hospital just to _get_ to Cecil. So, what, you were just _bored_ after prom, or something?”

In all their time together the past few months, with all of Cecil’s talk about his mother, he hadn’t said a word about any of what Marcus had just revealed. Carlos’ chest hurt as he thought about it. No wonder Cecil and his father were so protective of each other. He let out a slow breath and shook his head. “No, the girls took over one room and we were tired, so we slept in the other room.” Marcus hummed with curiosity and Carlos hid his face again. “I just … someone was a jerk to him, and he was down about it, so I offered to dance with him, and we just … It just happened.”

“Oh, God,” Marcus giggled, “sex doesn’t _just happen,_ you nitwit. Did he _seduuuuuce_ you?” He hadn’t had to. Carlos groaned and shook his head. “Did _you_ seduce _him?_ ” Another shake. Marcus groaned. “This is like pulling teeth, Carlos. Come _on._ ”

Telling Marcus what had happened without letting on about any of their other exploits was difficult, but Carlos managed to mumble his way through the night. Marcus listened intently, barely able to contain his excitement, and as much as it embarrassed Carlos to admit to someone else that he and Cecil had had sex, it was also a huge relief to finally have someone to talk about it with.

“My parents will kill me,” he finished. “What do I do?”

“Stop insisting you’re straight, at least to me, for one,” was the prompt reply. “Look, you’re not tutoring him anymore, right? So you don’t have to be near him. Just avoid him.”

“But he’s my friend,” Carlos protested. “I don’t want to lose a friend.”

“Then tell him it was just an experiment. And if you don’t want your parents finding out, don’t tell them. It’s that simple. _I’m_ not going to tell, and neither will Cecil -- he admits he’s a slut, but he doesn’t name names.” Marcus leaned against him. “You’re awfully worried about this, Carlos, for it to have been just a one-time thing. This _is_ the first time you two have done anything, right?” Carlos may have been crying, sick to his stomach at how much he enjoyed being with Cecil no matter what they were doing, and the looming conviction that cutting off their sexual intimacy wasn’t something that he could do. “Oh,” Marcus said quietly. “Well. Uhm … How’s your self-control?” Carlos hunched his shoulders and sobbed harder as he shook his head. Marcus sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. Do you love him?”

“I don’t know,” Carlos whispered. “I can’t.”

“Well, shit, man. You’re kinda screwed.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Carlos curled up on his side. “I can’t tell him no. He doesn’t even ask. He just … _exists._ And _he_ won’t tell _me_ no. And I can’t … I’ve tried to ignore it, to just tutor him or hang out, but we always end up … doing stuff. I’m disgusting.”

“What, for liking guys? I like guys, too. Am _I_ disgusting?”

Marcus was rightfully offended, and Carlos shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

“So why would _you_ be?”

“I just am, all right?”

“Oh, bullshit.” Marcus sat up and huffed. “You only think you’re disgusting because your fucking cult has brainwashed you into thinking that being anything other than straight is bad.”

“The Church isn’t a cult.” Carlos defended beliefs he didn’t share weakly.

“Sure it is. It isn’t good for you, Carlos. Look at you -- you’re a depressed mess. What are you going to do? Marry Maria, who at least _knows_ you’re gay, have some kids, and pretend you’re happy for the rest of your miserable life? You’ll be an alcoholic by the time you’re thirty.”

“‘M not gay,” Carlos mumbled into his pillow.

Marcus ignored him. “ _Or,_ you could _admit_ you’re gay, move out as soon as you can, and get on with your life as a happy fag.”

“That’s a slur.”

“Not if I’m using it. I’m kind of faggy, too.”

“My parents are paying for college. And not charging me rent once I’m eighteen. And I can’t leave the girls.”

Marcus scoffed and rolled onto his back. “ _Fine._ Stay in the closet. Just admit you’re there.”

“No.”

“You stubborn jackass.”

They were quiet for only a few moments before Carlos sat up abruptly. “What good would it do if I was gay _and_ came out? It wouldn’t change anything. I wouldn’t be able to date. I couldn’t get married. The _only_ thing that would happen is that I’d have to be afraid my parents would find out, and probably get kicked out and lose all my financial support if they did.”

“Cecil would date you and not tell anyone. Maybe let you stay with him if you got kicked out.”

“Cecil fucked two guys -- _at once -- **during prom** ,_” Carlos snapped. Marcus let out a low whistle. “I _don’t_ want to date anyone _that_ promiscuous.”

“But you’ll fuck him,” Marcus said flatly. “He’s good enough to fuck, but he’s not good enough to date.” Carlos stared at him, cheeks burning and mouth gaping, and he snorted. “That’s fucked up, man. _Fucked. Up._ ” He rolled over. “I’m going to sleep. The bullshit in here stinks.”

It was a long time before Carlos could sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way harsh, Marcus. Way harsh.
> 
> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gloria is amazing, and who's that new priest?
> 
> *** this update is gallifreyian_refugee's fault
> 
> **** Thank you, rudbeckia, for the invaluable feedback as to Father Jaime. I really appreciate it.

018

Marcus hadn’t said anything to him all morning, and Carlos was regretting staying up so late. He was regretting a lot of things about the previous night. They shuffled down to get some breakfast, Carlos trying to ignore the glares that his friend kept throwing his way, and found an attractive blonde woman sitting at the table and nursing a cup of coffee.

Marcus shifted his glare from Carlos to her as she glanced up at them. “Your --”

“I don’t fucking care,” Marcus snapped. He stomped over to the fridge and threw it open.

“-- father --”

“Still don’t care.”

“-- wanted me to tell you --”

Marcus spun around, a carton of orange juice and some leftovers in his arms. “Shut the fuck up.”

Carlos shifted, uncomfortable with his friend’s anger at his stepmother. “Come on, Marcus, chill out.”

The woman smiled tightly at him. She almost looked hungover. She certainly looked unamused with Marcus’ behavior. “Hi. I’m Gloria. You must be Carlos.”

He nodded. “Uh, yeah. Hi. I’m sorry about Marcus.”

His friend was still bitching to himself as he heated up the food, and Gloria shrugged. “Whatever. He’s not obligated to like me. _Hey,_ ” she called sharply. Marcus spun around with a snarl and a knife gripped tightly in one hand. Gloria didn’t even blink as she yawned. “Blah blah blah, bullshit about not wanting to replace your mother, blah blah, I love your father, let’s just be friends, yadda yadda yadda, emotional intimacy and bonding, and so on and so forth. There. We’ve talked like your father wanted.”

That made Marcus pause. “The fuck are you talking about, woman?”

She raised her cup and took a long drink. “Blah blah blah, bullshit about not wanting to replace your mother, blah blah, I love your father, let’s just be friends, yadda yadda yadda, emotional intimacy and bonding, and so on and so forth. Your father thinks we just need time to bond and then we’ll be bestest besties. _I_ think I don’t want you anywhere _near_ me unless you’ve been cavity-searched for weapons first.” Her dry, almost bored tone made Carlos snort with amusement, much to Marcus’ irritation. She pulled a small bottle of Jack Daniels out of her bathrobe pocket and poured the rest of it into her mug before taking another drink. “So there. We talked. Mission accomplished.”

Marcus and Carlos stared at her for a moment before the microwave dinged. “You’re a fucking lush.”

“Naw, this is the only booze I’ll have all day. I just need a little help in dealing with you. Want some?”

She offered the mug, but Marcus just rolled his eyes and stalked out of the kitchen as Carlos stood there awkwardly. A moment later, he reappeared in the doorway. “And by the way, I like dick.”

“Well,” Gloria sighed deeply into her drink, “we finally have _something_ in common.”

Marcus let out a garbled howl before Carlos pushed him out of the kitchen, laughing as Gloria just smiled smugly. “Come on, man, you can’t shock her. I need to get home so we can go to church.” His stomach twisted as he said the words. Carlos didn’t feel like going to church after the previous night’s emotional confessions. His parents would freak out if he asked to stay home, though, and might not let him stay over at Marcus’ again. Marcus bitched about his stepmother all through breakfast and the whole way to Carlos’ house, but he did manage to tell Carlos to just say he wasn’t feeling well before driving off. His family was almost ready to leave when he walked in the door, at which point his mother approached him with a comb. He shuffled his feet a bit. “Uh, Mom … I was wondering if maybe I could stay home today. I don’t feel well.”

His mother glared at him as she yanked the comb through his hair. “Well, you shouldn’t have run off to Marcus’ house and stayed up all night. Are you drunk? Were you drinking?”

Carlos pulled away with a scowl and covered his head protectively. “No, Mom. I’m not drunk, we weren’t drinking, and I’m not hungover. I just don’t feel well. Can’t I go home? Or stay in the car?”

“Carlos Hernando Garcia --”

He heaved a disgusted sigh and gave up. “Fine. Whatever. If I throw up on the new priest, it’s your fault.”

He got another glare as he was pushed toward his room. “Go change. I don’t like your attitude these days, Carlos. That _friend_ of yours has made you disobedient and argumentative. I don’t want you around him anymore.” She stood outside his door as he changed. “He’s a bad influence on you.”

“Marcus isn’t a bad influence on me, Mom.”

“I wasn’t talking about Marcus. I was talking about that _other_ boy, or whatever he is.”

He sighed and pulled his belt a notch tighter than the week before. “You mean Cecil? I don’t see him except for at school. He’s got nothing to do with anything.” But his skin _would_ look great against the green of Carlos’ sheets, and there _would_ be a lot more room on Carlos’ much bigger bed … He squeezed his eyes shut and tied his tie by feel alone. “Mom, I really don’t feel well.”

“You were well enough to sneak out and go to Marcus’, so you’re well enough to go to church.” She looked him up and down when he opened his door. “You need a haircut. Come on.”

He slid into the center part of their minivan and Juana sat next to him as the girls piled in the back. Juana was also scowling as she plucked at the overly-frilly dress she was wearing. It was low enough to show off cleavage, and their mother had obviously done her makeup. Carlos suspected the whole thing was an attempt to de-emphasize Juana’s new haircut. She glanced over at him and rolled her eyes, a gesture he returned. They got lectures from both parents on the way to church. Their behavior was disrespectful and unacceptable, they were going to get in a lot of, or a lot more, trouble if they didn’t start behaving better, they needed to listen to their parents … Carlos tuned them out after pointing out his continuing 4.5 GPA and perfect attendance, not to mention how well he was doing at his job, made them yell louder. He ignored them until they were outside the church, joining the mass of people greeting the new priest before the services started.

The attractive new priest.

The attractive new priest with the long black hair and strong jaw.

The attractive new priest who had been at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner the previous night, and who had probably heard what he and Marcus had been talking about.

“Mom, I don’t feel well!” Carlos hissed as his heart started pounding and adrenaline flooded his veins. He needed to leave. He couldn’t meet the new priest. The new priest would tell his parents what he and Marcus had been talking about -- he’d tell them he’d seen Carlos out. His panic was ignored even as he tried to turn away, but the crowd pressed him back and then his father turned him back around and he was suddenly face-to-face with the new priest, who was giving him the same grin as the night before.

“Ah, you must be Carlos,” he said warmly in Spanish, holding his hand out. Carlos took it numbly as he stuttered, but the handshake was quick. “I’m Father Jaime. I hear you’ve got a hell of a right hook.” Paolo was on the other side of him, studiously _not_ looking at Carlos. “Is Spanish alright?”

“Of course it is, Father _Mendez._ All of our children speak Spanish,” his mother said sweetly. “Yes, this is our son, Carlos, and our daughters -- Juana, Lenora, Alonsa, and Anita. Please excuse Juana’s hair. She had one of her friends cut it without our permission.”

Juana looked like she was going to burst into tears before Father Jaime grinned at her. “Call me Father Jaime, please. And a friend cut it? I thought it was a professional job. It looks really good on you.”

“Now, Father --”

“Really?” Juana asked as she raised a hand to her hair.

He nodded. “Absolutely. It suits your face very well.”

“But it’s her _hair!_ ” Their mother was scandalized.

“And hair grows back,” Father Jaime said gently. “Besides, it’s _Juana’s_ hair, right? She should be able to do what she wants with her own hair. I see no one’s forbidden you from dying yours, Mrs. Garcia.”

“Well, I’m an adult.” She looked at him over the rims of her glasses, her eyes narrowed. “Are _you_ an adult?”

Father Jaime grinned. “Amazingly, yes, you _do_ have to be an adult to become a priest. Are you all involved in church activities?”

That was said to the children, and Carlos shrugged. “I’ve got a job. I, uh, used to be in the choir at our last church, though.”

“The girls are all in the choir,” Mrs. Garcia put in proudly. “Now, Father Mendez --”

“Father Jaime, please.”

“-- Father Mendez, you _do_ follow Church teachings, right?”

Carlos swallowed sharply and Father Jaime glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “They wouldn’t let me be a priest if I didn’t.”

Mrs. Garcia beamed. “Good. Carlos needs a lot of guidance. He has … unsavory friends.”

“Mom!” Carlos finally snapped. Everyone looked at him in surprise. “Cecil being gay does _not_ make him ‘unsavory,’ ok? It doesn’t mean he’s contaminating me or making me gay. You _can’t make someone gay,_ alright?”

“Well,” Father Jaime said before his mother could reply, “it’s time to go inside. Ah, Carlos, if I may see you after church, please?”

Fuck, he was in trouble with the priest. Carlos lowered his head and nodded before being pushed into the church, his mother apologizing for his behavior the whole way. Father Jaime was formally introduced, but Father Iglesias led the ceremony. After, Carlos was marched to Father Jaime’s new office, where his mother waited with him for almost half an hour before the man came hurrying down the hallway.

“Ah, my apologies. Everyone has wanted to say hello. Come in, please, Carlos. Ah --” His mother had started to walk into the office as well, but Father Jaime raised his hand. “I find it easier to talk with the youth alone, Mrs. Garcia. I’m sure you understand there are things a young man can’t say in front of his parents?” He gently ushered her out, politely ignoring her protests, and then shut the door firmly. It had a small stained-glass window in it that was just clear enough to see out of, and he peered through it until Carlos’ mother had walked away, then opened it a crack. Then he turned to Carlos with a relieved smile. “Mothers, right? Please, have a seat. Chocolate?”

“Uh, no, thank you.” Carlos sat uneasily, sure that his agitation was obvious. “Uhm, I’m sorry about --”

“Snitches get stitches, where I’m from,” Father Jaime interrupted as he sat, not on the other side of his desk, but in the chair next to Carlos’, scooting it back a few feet while popping a chocolate in his mouth. Carlos blinked at him. “Basically, I won’t tell that you were out last night if you don’t tell that I was.” Then he grinned.

“Uhm.”

Father Jaime popped another chocolate and enjoyed it for a moment, his eyes closed and his head tilted back, giving Carlos the opportunity to admire the curve of his neck and the dark brown of his skin before kicking himself and looking away. “So, have you got a girlfriend, Carlos?”

“No,” was the immediate reply, then Carlos coughed. “I mean, not really. Not anymore. She lives in New York.”

“Not the long distance type, hmm? A boyfriend, then?” That made Carlos choke and jump up, vigorously denying everything, and Father Jaime just calmly ate another chocolate. “Really, please, have one. Save me from myself. _Mm!_ So good. I’m not, ah …” He opened his eyes and looked Carlos up and down as he shook with the fear that Father Jaime had overheard he and Marcus and _knew._ “Oh, calm down. Snitches get stitches, right? The only thing I care about, Carlos, is that you’re safe -- whatever you do, whoever you do it with. Your parents are very adamant that you get back on the Godly path, and I’m sure they’ve got their reasons for thinking you’ve strayed, but faith is a tricky thing and -- Oh, God, would you please sit down? You’re going to collapse.” He flapped his hands at Carlos and the chair until the young man had sat down again, then leaned forward and looking at him seriously. “I’m not here to sit in judgement of you, Carlos. I’m not here to tell your parents anything that we discuss, ever. I’m here because the youth of the Church need someone closer to your age, who you can actually talk with. About _anything._ Sports, school, sex, drugs, theological questions or doubts … Anything you need to talk about that you don’t feel you can talk with your parents about. Anything at all. You’ll find I’m a lot more lenient in my interpretations of God’s word than your parents might hope for. I’m here for the youth, Carlos, not the adults. Even if you already have an adult you’re comfortable confiding in - and I hope you do - I’m available if you need another point of view. Are you involved in school activities?”

“S, science club,” Carlos mumbled as he absently wrung his hands. His mind was reeling and he felt like this was a trap.

“Excellent. Your parents say you’re graduating a year early.”

“Yeah. Maybe sooner, depending on how many classes I can take at the community college this summer. Science isn’t as boring as other subjects.”

Father Jaime grinned as he nodded. “They say you’re really good at it. Any particular field you’re interested?”

“Not really. I’m sure I’ll narrow it down, but right now, I really like everything. Chemistry’s fun. But I also like physics. I don’t know yet.”

The priest nodded. “You have time to figure it out. Do you get along well with the kids at church and school? Other than Paolo, I mean.”

Carlos smiled slightly as he started to relax. “Yeah, usually. I just ignore them. Paolo, uh, said some bad things about Maria. My, uh, my girlfriend.”

He got a nod. “I suppose I should tell you that violence isn’t the answer, but God _did_ send down bears in Elisha’s defense, so …”

“That’s what I said,” Carlos laughed. “Father Iglesias wasn’t impressed.”

“I bet he wasn’t. Next time, remind him that our Lord Christ _did_ flip tables and chase people with whips at one point, so that’s _also_ a legitimate reaction to injustice.” That made Carlos laugh more, and they chatted for a while before Carlos mentioned he needed to get to work. “Oh, my apologies. Your parents are probably also waiting. Thank you for the chat, Carlos.” Father Jaime stood and held his hand out, and Carlos took it without batting an eye. “I know it takes time to gain a new church’s trust, but please, come to me with anything, all right?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. Uhm … I’ll see you next week.”

His mother was still waiting for him, but Carlos refused to tell her what he and Father Jaime had talked about. He just let her think, by his subdued demeanor, that he’d been thoroughly chastised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and carlos is like "... wat."
> 
> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realized I hadn't posted a new chapter in a while. Oops. Sorry. Have some sexy sexy sexin's, and an ultimatum.
> 
> *** If you read this chapter prior to July 19th, please go back and re-read chapter 18. I made some minor yet major changes to improve it. Thank you!

The covers being torn off of him woke Carlos with a start. He let out a garbled shout of protest as he fumbled for them blindly, then yelled when his hand got bit. Anita’s giggles went up several octaves as he shoved at her and sent her tumbling across his room. He sat up, afraid he’d hurt the little twerp, but she just hopped up and ran at him again, so he gave her another shove and off she tumbled.

“ _Stop it,_ ” he groaned a few minutes later. She didn’t, of course. She just shrieked with laughter and kept running at him. He tried _not_ shoving her away, but she’d learned to bite recently -- and _hadn’t_ learned to do it gently.

Carlos finally got tired of fending her off and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, grabbing her and spinning her around so he had her by the ankles as he stood up. Anita squealed with laughter and begged him to spin her around, and he obliged her for a little while.

“Ugh, you’re obnoxious! I should sell you to the circus.”

“Faster! Faster!”

He gave her three more good spins and then swung her up into his arms, covering her face with kisses as she laughed and squirmed. “Oooh, my darling baby, my precious little sister. I could eat you up!”

“No! No! Don’t eat me!”

“Too late!” He lifted her up by the armpits and gobbled at her exposed belly, and Anita shrieked. She pointed to the window when he finally lowered her to his hip.

“New car!”

“Did the neighbors get a new car?” Carlos took her to the window to take a peek.

Sitting in their driveway was a silver Coupe. It looked brand-new. Carlos admired it for a moment before frowning. Either someone was visiting at six in the morning, or his parents had bought a new car. Which meant that their troubles weren’t related to money.

“Huh. You’re right, Anitalitabita. Here, get down and let me get dressed.” She giggled at her lengthened name and kissed his cheek before running out of the room and down the hallway. Everyone was at the table when he finally got downstairs, and he gave out kisses before sitting down. “New car, huh?” His mother started saying grace loudly. Carlos lowered his head and closed his eyes, and tried again halfway through the meal. “So … are you selling Dad’s car?”

His parents ignored him and he gave up. He was French braiding Lenora’s hair, just tying the last braid off, when his father dropped a set of car keys on the table beside him. “Here. We’re tired of driving you everywhere.”

Carlos looked between his father and the keys to the Coupe for a few moments before everything sank in. Then he gently let Lenora’s hair go and looked up at his father. “You … bought me a car?”

His father nodded as excitement started cautiously making its way through his veins. His mother was grinning at the foot of the stairs. “Merry Christmas. Don’t drink and drive, don’t be out past midnight, and don’t let anyone else drive it. It’s paid off, and we’re taking care of the insurance. All you need to do is pay for gas. You’re a good boy, Carlos. Very mature and responsible, despite your recent behavior. Don’t make us regret this.”

Carlos nodded as he stood up, then hugged his father tightly. His voice was breathless with excitement. “Thank you. I won’t. I mean, I promise. Thank you both so much. Mama …” He picked her up and hugged her tightly, her feet dangling inches off the ground as she laughed and kissed his cheeks. “Thank you _so_ much.”

“You drive carefully. Keep your ID on you. Don’t let the police take it if you get pulled over. Now go on, mijo, and drop Juana off at school, too. We’ll pick her up.”

“Yeah! Come on, Carlos!” Juana was out of the kitchen and at the door with her backpack before Carlos could even grab his. “Hurry!”

He laughed and slung his arm over her shoulder as they walked out the door. Once they were in the car, Juana pulled one of Carlos’ old school uniform tops out of her backpack and over her head, wiggling until she’d gotten her uniform blouse off and her arms through his top’s armholes, all without flashing anyone while Carlos admired the car. Then they grinned at each other.

“You look like a boy.”

She tensed and stared at him defiantly. “Good.”

“Ok. Want to stop at McDonald’s?”

Juana relaxed. “Yeah.” Then she laughed. “We’re such rebels. Look at us, not going right to school like we’re supposed to.”

“It’s a slippery slope. Soon we’ll be turning in homework late, staying up past ten, and watching PG-13 movies.”

“We’ll be international drug lords in three months.” Carlos laughed. “And when Mami and Papi are interviewed after we’re killed in a brutal FBI shoot-out, all they’ll be able to say is ‘We shouldn’t have given him the car.’”

Carlos was almost choking on his laughter. “Oh, God -- ‘We Shouldn’t Have Given Him The Car: The True Story of Carlos and Juana Garcia -- A Lifetime Original.’”

They spent the rest of the drive to the McDonald’s and middle school in a detailed discussion about their future nefarious exploits and who would play them in the movie. By the time Juana got out of the car, they were both in tears of laughter. Carlos smiled all the way to school, pulling into a spot just as Cecil was hopping out of his dad’s cruiser.

Carlos got out quickly and trotted over. “Cecil!”

He looked up and around, then lit up and waved when he spied Carlos. “Hey! It’s Celia today! What’s up?”

“My parents bought me a car.” Carlos bumped shoulders with his friend.

Celia bumped him back. “Wow, congratulations!”

“Thanks. Hi, Mr. Palmer. I can take Celia home today, if you want.”

He managed to not flush or stutter. Celia immediately turned her most pleading expression on her father. “ _Please,_ Dad? You said you’re really busy at work this week. I’ll be good!”

Mr. Palmer gave Carlos a long, hard look. If he didn’t know exactly why Carlos was offering to take Celia home, he at least suspected, and wasn’t happy about it. “It’s not that far out of my way.”

“... Fine. Thank you.”

“Aaaaah, you’re the _best!_ ” Celia threw herself into the cruiser to hug and kiss her father, then slithered back out. Her skirt caught on the seat and Carlos was treated to a flash of Hello Kitty panties and garters before he closed his eyes. He swallowed sharply, but managed to neither shake nor choke. “Hey, can I drive? I’ve got my license! ‘Bye, Dad! Love you!”

“It’s not insured for other drivers. I’m sorry.” A sudden breeze made them both shiver. Carlos took his jacket off and offered it to Celia. “Here, take this. Why did you think a skirt was a good idea in this weather?”

She took the jacket gladly and wrapped it around herself, dwarfed by its mass, and took a deep breath of Carlos’ scent on it as she smiled. “Because I look damn cute in it.”

They headed inside and Carlos laughed. “Oh. Well. Yeah. You know, I thought it would be harder to switch between calling you a boy or a girl -- you know, to myself -- but it’s really not.”

The first bell hadn’t rung yet, so they sat in the cafeteria. Celia crossed her ankles and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering on her pink butterfly hair clip. Carlos stopped pretending he wasn’t paying attention to how her skirt slid up above her knees. She propped her chin in one hand and watched him watch her, gripping her skirt even higher and opening and closing her knees teasingly. “That’s because you’re perfect.”

Carlos sighed. “I’m really not. I wish you’d stop saying that.” She had honest-to-God cleavage. He wondered how she’d managed it.

Celia laughed and leaned toward him, deliberately giving him a better view down her blouse. Carlos swallowed sharply and was glad they were sitting at a table. “Oh, sure you are.” Their shoulders touched and she sighed lightly, looking down at the erection that was obvious through his slacks. Her breathing was as tightly controlled as his own. “Please tell me you offered to take me home to have _completely_ heterosexual sex with me,” she whispered in his ear.

Her low voice tore a strangled groan from Carlos’ lips and he almost came right there. He swallowed sharply as his gaze flitted around the cafeteria, finally settling on Mike Sandero, who was glowering at them. “If you --” He coughed, swallowing the butterflies in his stomach. “If you can make it ‘til then, yeah.”

They both bit their lips at his admission, then Celia laughed breathlessly as the first bell rang. “... Yeah. I can wait. For you, I can wait.”

Her breath was hot in his ear, then on his cheek as he turned his head slightly. “We need to get to class,” he whispered.

“Not with _that_ boner. God, I want you _so_ bad …”

“That’s not helping,” he growled.

She laughed again as she stood up. “Well. See you in chemistry.”

~~~~~

The soft music Celia had put on did nothing to drown out her moans and pleas as she clutched at Carlos’ back and waist, one leg pushed up and over his shoulder. He could feel the welts and scratches she was leaving, but each sliver of pain, each sting from the sweat on his back, only made him shudder with pleasure. She’d kept her bra, garter, and stockings on -- the cleavage was a [genius trick](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYK-Z8FTvdQ) of a regular bra over four or five strapless silicone ones. He could see why she hadn’t wanted to take the get-up off -- that and she knew full well that one of the quickest ways to turn him on was to wear stockings and garters.

“Oh, God, please, harder,” she begged.

Carlos shifted, pulling her other leg over his shoulder. The movement made them both groan as he raised himself up and watched Celia’s fluttering eyelids and slack jaw as he pushed into her harder. Her cries jumped in pitch and intensity the more forceful his thrusts were, and Carlos liked it when that happened, and Celia knew it, so she did it on purpose, until she was almost screaming as Carlos propped himself up for better leverage and grunted each time he slammed into her, her nails leaving long scrapes on his arms, shoulders, and chest. Her abandon was intoxicating, and Carlos loved to watch it.

He pushed himself up so he was kneeling, pulling Celia’s hips closer and holding her thighs apart as he watched their bodies move together, sweat dripping from his face and hair as he panted. Celia responded by raising her heels over her head and holding her legs there, giving Carlos a clear view of her body and where he entered it. It was getting easier and easier for him to look. Then she let her legs go and grabbed at his forearms as she came, drawing blood. Carlos gasped and collapsed on top of her, his face in her neck, his arms and shoulders keeping her legs above her head. She grunted a little with discomfort, but didn’t let him move until he, too, came, panting and groaning.

She held him until he caught his breath and rolled off of her, then immediately curled up against him with her head on his shoulder and one hand splayed across his chest. Carlos pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked her cheek and shoulder before staring up at the ceiling. He shivered a little when her nails scraped gently across his nipple, but between Celia’s warmth next to him and the space heater on the floor, he was actually quite warm, even without a blanket.

“I should go,” he murmured some time later. “Your dad’ll be home soon.”

“Not until sundown,” she whispered. Her hand on his chest clenched and she squeezed him tighter as she nuzzled his neck, but then she pushed herself up on one arm and smiled down at him wistfully. “Do you need a shower?” she asked as she toyed with a bit of his hair. Carlos nodded. “Do you need … help … with that?” She asked it shyly and he sighed as he shook his head. “... oh.”

It was soft, sad. Carlos got up and showered, leaving Celia in her bed. She pulled the covers up to her chest as she watched him get dressed after he was clean, then pulled her fluffy bathrobe on and followed him to the front door. Carlos looked down at her as she looked up at him. Her carefully-applied makeup was smeared and her hair was a complete mess, and she was biting her lower lip nervously, like she wanted to say something but was holding back. He opened his mouth and her eyes widened hopefully, but then he closed it wordlessly and stroked his thumb over her lower lip and goatee before kissing her gently. She leaned in the doorway and smiled as she watched him leave.

~~~~~

The next day, their latest chemistry test slid over his English notes, and Carlos stared at the sparkly purple ink -- and large red F -- with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Cecil mumbled. “I swear, I studied. I really did. Dad helped. I know the answers. I just …”

Carlos nodded and patted the seat next to him. Cecil flopped down dejectedly. “It’s ok. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take you home and we’ll go over the test. Ms. Rigadeau might let you retake it.”

“Yeah, but, you did so good tutoring me. I was paying attention, I really was. And … and Dad can’t … I mean, money’s tight right now, so --”

Carlos finally looked up. “ _Cecil._ It’s _o. kay._ We’re friends. You don’t need to pay me.”

“But you’ve got so much going on. Your job, your family, the science club … I don’t want to use you.”

The reply that he could be repaid in sexual favors almost crossed his lips, but Carlos bit down on it and shook his head. “You’re not. You don’t work tonight, do you?”

Cecil shook his own head. “Nah. I work Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and weekends.” He pulled two lollipops out of one of his cargo pants’ pockets and offered one to Carlos, who took it. “I’ll make dinner for us, if you want. Dad got me a cute apron and it came with a free cookbook.”

Carlos smiled to himself. He was pretty sure that the free apron had come with the cookbook, but Cecil’s simple mixups were endearing. They sat quietly while Carlos went over his notes and Cecil took out a drawing pad and colored pencils. Carlos stole glances at him, watching the look of concentration on his face, the line of his jaw, the gauges and piercings in his ears. His hair was curled and in pigtails, and he was wearing a horrifically ugly sweater in clashing colors that matched his makeup.

Then a thought occurred to him. “Hey … why’s your bathroom mirror always covered?”

Cecil’s hand froze and he was still for a moment. Then, “... It’s just a thing.”

“Do you ever uncover it?”

“... No. Dad and I don’t do mirrors.”

Carlos frowned. “Why not? How do you do your hair and makeup?”

“We just _don’t,_ and Dad does them for me. I don’t want to talk about mirrors.”

He was serious -- almost testy -- about it as he scowled at his picture, so Carlos reached out and tugged on one of his pigtails. Cecil jerked away with a growl. “Ok. I’m sorry. Your hair looks cute.”

That made him flush and smile despite his best efforts, and he looked up at Carlos through his long lashes. “R, really?”

Carlos was always irrationally pleased with his ability to turn Cecil into a stammering, nervous schoolgirl with just one compliment. “Yeah. Real cute.” Cecil ducked his head and giggled as he toyed with the pigtail Carlos didn’t have a hold of. Carlos watched him with a smile before he remembered that they weren’t the only ones in the library and looked away, _really_ looking at his friend’s picture. “Hey, those are the chemical compounds the test was on.” And it was all correct. Cecil was in the middle of doodling -- _doodling_ \-- a visual version of their test.

He blinked as Carlos took the drawing and stood up. “Uhm … yeah?”

“You just randomly drew the test.”

“Well, it was on my mind. So?”

Carlos pulled him out of the library and toward the staff lounge as he waved the picture in Cecil’s face. “And it’s _all correct!_ ”

Cecil took the picture and looked at it curiously. “I _said_ I knew the answers.”

Carlos laughed as he pushed the staff lounge door open. Several teachers, including Ms. Rigadeau, looked up as he pulled Cecil over and handed her the picture. “Cecil just drew this in the library, Ms. Rigadeau. He knows the material. He’s just not good at taking tests.”

She frowned as she took the half-finished drawing and looked it over. Then her eyebrows raised. She looked up at the two boys in front of her. “You didn’t help him?”

“No, ma’am,” Carlos swore. “He showed me his test and we were talking about me tutoring him, and he just … drew it. He wasn’t looking at the test or anything. He wasn’t _trying_ to draw it. I know it’s unorthodox, but is there a way that this can count? He _knows_ the material.”

Ms. Rigadeau took a deep breath as she looked between the drawing and Cecil. “Let me think about it,” she finally told them. She handed the drawing back. “Have this finished and on my desk by the end of the day, Mr. Palmer.”

“Uh, yes, ma’am.”

“Now go away.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” They hurried out and Cecil bumped into Carlos. “How am I supposed to finish this by the end of the day?” They stopped at Cecil’s locker.

“I don’t know, maybe at lunch?”

Cecil paused, then slowly pulled out his English book. “I, uhm … had plans … at lunch.”

That got him a shrug. “Well, it’s either your test or your … plans.”

Cecil stared into his locker. “You don’t like that I fuck other guys.”

“I don’t like that you do it at school.”

“You’d prefer that I went to their homes, where their parents might catch us? That they came to mine?”

“I don’t … It’s none of my business.” Carlos leaned back against the lockers and crossed his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“But you don’t want me fucking other guys, do you? At school or not.” Carlos was silent as his scowl deepened. “Well, there’s one way to stop me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Date me.” Carlos looked at him in surprise as Cecil closed his locker. “It doesn’t have to be publicly. You don’t have to tell anyone -- and you know _I_ won’t. But if you want me all to yourself, which is how you’ve been acting from the start, then _I’m_ going to need a committed relationship out of the deal. I’m _totally_ willing to stop sleeping around if you want to be exclusive. _Totally._ I’d _love_ that. But not if you’re still going to pretend, even between the two of us, that you’re straight and us fucking doesn’t mean anything. So you just think about that, and let me know what you decide. Ok?” He raised his eyebrows briefly before walking off. He ignored Carlos for the rest of the day, and went home with his dad after school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a fic-only Tumblr, titled, most cleverly, [LarissaFaeFics](http://larissafaefics.tumblr.com/).


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drive-in is amazing, and so is Father Jaime.

“I’m going to Marcus’! Be back tomorrow! Love you!”

There was an answering shout from the laundry room that Carlos took as permission as he sailed out the door and another shout as Juana protested being left behind, and then the front door was closed and he was bounding to his car. Marcus was waiting for him in his father’s hatchback when he got to his friend’s house, and as they pulled out of the driveway, Marcus glanced over at him.

“Ok. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” He stared out the window, Cecil’s ultimatum still running through his head. He was also, if he was honest, irritated because he’d been anticipating taking Cecil home, and the hoped-for sex had never happened because Cecil had decided to _push_ him.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus repeated. “Something’s wrong.”

“Oh. Nothing.” Marcus punched his arm and Carlos didn’t even twitch. He just took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he spoke. “... Cecil said he’d stop sleeping around if we started dating.”

The car swerved sharply as Marcus’ head jerked around in shock and they both swore. Once they were under control again, he kept darting wide-eyed glances at Carlos. “ _Shit,_ dude, seriously? Are you gonna do it?”

Carlos gave him a dirty look. “ _No._ I can’t. My parents would kill me if they found out.” He turned away again. “And I’m not into guys.”

Marcus started laughing hard enough he had to pull over. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his dark brown knuckles were turning white, banging his head lightly between his hands as he shrieked with laughter. No amount of disgusted sighing or demands that he stop did anything, and each time he started to calm down, he’d look at Carlos and start howling again. It was a good five minutes before he could speak again, tears falling down his cheeks.

“Ok,” he gasped, “ok. I’m not sure which is funnier -- the fact that you’re only concerned about your parents _finding out,_ or the fact that ‘you’re not into guys’ was _clearly_ an afterthought.” He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and wheezed with mirth some more, then started the car again. “Oh man. You should do comedy.”

“You’re an asshole,” Carlos muttered. It was a few minutes before he recognized the road they were on and straightened. “Where are we going?”

“To see your boyfriend. Maybe he wants to go to the drive-in with us.”

“Oh, come on.” Panic was entering Carlos’ voice. “Please, no.” Marcus ignored him. “We don’t have to invite Cecil. He can’t be out after dark.”

“So, he can stay over, too.” Marcus grinned at him. “Man, you’ve got it _bad_ for him, Carlos. Look at that adorable blush. You’re in loooooove.”

“I am not,” Carlos grumbled. “Where would he sleep, even?”

“I’ve got more rooms than I know what to do with. You two can take one, if you want. Dad and that bitch won’t even know you used it. I’ve got condoms, too, if you need them.”

“ _I’m not having sex with Cecil in your house!_ ” Carlos nearly shrieked as his heart skipped enough beats to make him gasp. “I’m not having sex with Cecil _ever!_ ”

“Yeah,” Marcus snorted, “ _that’s_ a fucking lie. How do we get to his place?”

“ _I’m not telling you that!_ ”

“Yeah, well, you tell me or I’m stopping in town and asking where Carlos’ boyfriend lives. I bet they’d all know who I was talking about.”

“ _Fine!_ Turn here!” Carlos slammed his fist against the dashboard as he shook with anger and Marcus turned down the dirt road that led to the two or three acres of flat, empty land that Cecil lived on. “Look, don’t tell Cecil that I told you about --”

“Wow, what a dump,” Marcus breathed as they drove up. He started as the dog pack came tearing around the side of the house, howling and circling the car, rearing up on their hind legs to paw at the windows as their tails wagged. “ _Jesus fucking Christ, he has wolves!_ ”

Carlos finally laughed and pushed his door open. He got a lapful of exuberant wolf-dog and shoved it away as it licked at his face and yapped in excitement. “ _Puppies,_ Marcus. They’re his _puppies. Oi! Get down!_ ” He was ignored as he stood up, and the wolf-beast that had licked him was shoved out of the way as another one reared up and easily rested its paws on his shoulders, pushing him against the car. Marcus might have shrieked a little as one of the smaller ones wriggled past Carlos and into the passenger seat. Carlos laughed and shoved his way through the pack as Marcus yelled for help. The trailer door opened and Cecil pressed his nose to the screen door.

“Oh! Carlos!” He sounded delighted and pushed the screen door open. “That’s not your car! _Hey! Get down!_ ” The dogs immediately backed away, then ran after the toy that Cecil threw. He turned back to Carlos with an adoring smile. “You came to see me?”

Carlos laughed and shrugged as he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down, kicking at the ground. Marcus was still in the car, covered in a puppy or three. “Uh, yeah, kinda … We’re going to the drive-in. Marcus wanted to invite you. You don’t have to come.”

Cecil was rubbing his bare arms in the chill late-afternoon air. “Well, I have to ask Dad. Come on in.” He was wearing a muscle shirt and fuzzy pants, and as Marcus finally escaped the car and followed them, the puppies following him up to the door and whining when they were left outside, Carlos let one of his hands drop and brush against them. Cecil glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and smiled. “Sorry it’s messy. Have a seat. Dad’s in the shower.” He turned the music that was playing down a bit and then at looked Marcus and brushed his hair back as Marcus looked him up and down appraisingly. “We’ve never met. I’m Cecil.”

Marcus took the hand he offered and shook it. Carlos and Cecil both narrowed their eyes when he rubbed his thumb gently across the back of Cecil’s hand. “Marcus Vansten. Way richer than you.”

Carlos hit him as Cecil jerked his hand back and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, most people are. So … the drive-in?” He knelt and started cleaning up the art supplies strewn across the living room. He was more subdued than usual, which made Carlos frown with concern as he knelt to help and Marcus flopped onto the couch.

“Yeah. Carlos said the bogeyman will eat you if you’re out past dark, so you can stay at my place. Caaaaarlooooos is staying over, too.”

“Wendigo,” Cecil corrected him absently. “Do you want me to tag along?”

He asked it softly, to Carlos and Carlos alone, looking up at him hesitantly through his long lashes. Carlos didn’t look directly at him as he nodded. “Yeah. I like hanging out with my friends.” It was distinctly _not_ an answer to their last conversation. Cecil nodded, then looked up when the bathroom door opened and Carlos sat next to Marcus.

“Boy, are you still messing around?”

Mr. Palmer walked into the living room, still dripping wet, a very short towel clasped loosely -- so very, very loosely -- around his hips. His face was more relaxed than Carlos would have ever seen it, if Carlos had been paying attention to his face. As it was, his broad and muscular chest and shoulders, covered in intricate tribal tattoos from his neckline to the top quarters of his biceps and down his flat stomach, as well as his narrow hips, and the one muscular thigh that peeked out from the towel’s gap, had Carlos and Marcus both suddenly crossing their legs and shifting so their laps weren’t visible as they both stared. A thousand images flew through Carlos’ mind, not a single one of them appropriate in the slightest. He felt faint. He hadn’t expected Mr. Palmer to be _all_ muscle, not at his age, though Carlos didn’t really know how old he was anyway, and he really wanted to go over and hit his knees and --

“Tch, _no,_ ” Cecil half-lied. “I just cleaned up. Carlos and Marcus --” He looked over his shoulder as he spoke, then wailed in frustration as Mr. Palmer finally noticed the dumb-struck and obviously aroused young men on the couch and immediately shut down, his face twisting into his usual foreboding scowl as he shifted and hitched his towel higher on his waist. “Oh, come _ooooon! Really?!_ Good God, you two, have some _class!_ That’s my _daaaaad!_ ” He leapt up and pushed at his father, who didn’t even pretend to be affected. “ _Uuuuugh!_ Go put some _clothes on,_ you shameless hussy! I have to clean up their drool! Daaa _aad! **Gooooo!**_ ” He was scowling, turning his shoulder into his father’s chest and pushing with all his might. “Daaaaad!”

Mr. Palmer had stopped glaring at Carlos and Marcus when it became obvious it wasn’t having the desired effect, and in fact was having the _opposite_ of the desired effect, and had been surveying the room. He finally gave a short sigh and looked down at Cecil as if just noticing him. Cecil was on the verge of tears. “Will you be gone overnight?”

“Yes! _Ugh!_ Just _go,_ already!”

The man turned, the dampness of his back making it glisten, and Carlos almost came at the sight of the muscles moving beneath the skin and tattoos. He finally tore his gaze away and buried his face in a pillow as Mr. Palmer started off down the hall. “Feed that dog infestation before you go.”

Then he was gone and Marcus tipped forward until he fell to the floor, curling into a ball and groaning. “Oh my God, he’s _gorgeous._ Oh my _God._ ”

“And _you two!_ ” Cecil wailed as he whirled on them. “You horny, perverted, pathetic _losers!_ Have some _fucking_ self-control, would you?! That is my _father,_ who is old enough to be _your_ father, which makes you _gross!_ ” He stomped over and stood in front of Carlos, glaring down at him with tears in his eyes and his fists on his hips. “And you! Don’t you get enough --” He cut himself off and huffed, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest self-consciously.

“Can’t think,” was the garbled reply from Marcus as Carlos didn’t meet Cecil’s eyes. “Boner too powerful.”

“I hate you both,” Cecil bit out as Carlos sat up. He really _was_ about to cry, his face twisted with anger, but before Carlos could speak the other boy threw himself into his lap, straddling his hips and wriggling against him, angry brown eyes inches from Carlos’ own.

“Aaaaagh!” Carlos jumped like he’d been scalded, put his hands on Cecil’s chest to push him off before realizing he’d hit the coffee table and get hurt, then jerked his hands back and held them at shoulder-level. “Stop it! Get off!”

Cecil was grinding against him to the rhythm of the still-playing music, glaring at Carlos as he rested his wrists on Carlos’ shoulders, his fingers digging into his hair. “Why? You like it. Might as well get you off before we go, so you won’t be pissy all night.”

He was having a hard time speaking calmly and Carlos was having a hard time keeping his hands off of him. He covered Cecil’s hands with his own, intending to pull them off of his shoulders, but ended up gripping them tightly as his head fell back and he panted. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was _so_ close, and Cecil knew _just_ how to move, it wasn’t the first time he’d given Carlos a lap-dance, he was so _very close,_ he didn’t even _care_ if Marcus saw them or watched --

“Oh, _God_ ...”

Carlos wasn’t sure who of the three of them had groaned, but just as he was about to come, Cecil stood up and twirled shakily away. “Well, gotta change if we’re going out!”

Carlos grabbed blindly for him and whimpered. His trembling fingers barely brushed Cecil’s fuzzy pants as the boy fled to his room. He curled on his side, eyes still squeezed shut as he panted and groaned. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him,” he whispered.

“Pretty sure you the-exact-opposite-of-hate him, but damn, he’s a cocktease.” Marcus sat up, having regained control of his body. Carlos wasn’t so fortunate, and stayed curled up. After a while, his friend cleared his throat. “I bet he’s hoping you’ll go in and fuck him.”

“Well, he’s in for a surprise if he is,” Carlos snapped.

“Can I?”

“ _No!_ ”

“Can we talk about how gorgeous his dad is, then? Because --”

“ _No!_ ”

“-- _damn,_ he’s hot. Your dad’s _hot,_ Cecil. Want a stepdad?”

“Shut up,” was the huffy reply. When Carlos opened his eyes, Cecil was in his cargo pants and an oversized, ugly holiday sweater. He wasn’t wearing any makeup or jewellry, and with his hair down he looked about twelve, if one ignored his goatee. “Let’s stop by the store for snacks. You can pay, rich guy.”

His exceptionally youthful appearance helped quell the rest of Carlos’ desire enough for him to sit up, then stand as Cecil dug in his father’s uniform jacket’s pocket. “I’ll get your ticket, Cecil.”

Cecil paused, his father’s wallet in one hand. “I don’t want to be a burden. I mean, we can afford it this once.”

Carlos walked over and hugged him as Cecil stood there, his shoulders hunched and his body tense. For all of his fierce pride in being poor -- something Carlos really meant to ask about some other time -- he hated having to rely on others for anything. “It’s ok. I want to. It’s my treat.”

“You make it sound like a date.”

“It’s my treat,” Carlos repeated.

Sighing, Cecil put the wallet back and sat to pull on his combat boots. “... Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, come on,” Marcus demanded. He shooed them to the car and grumbled about the dogs as Cecil stopped to feed them. “What do you losers want?” he asked as they walked into the small town’s small convenience store. Elder Josie was sitting in a rocking chair out front, polishing an antique rifle and nodding when Cecil greeted her. “Don’t break my wallet.”

“Oh, please, we couldn’t if we tried,” Carlos laughed. He looked around, then frowned. “Uhm, Cecil?”

“Hmm?” He was picking out some red vines.

“What’s Steve doing here?”

Cecil’s head snapped up and his upper lip curled in disgust at the sight of Steve walking toward them, next to a woman who had to have been his mother. “ _Ugh._ He lives here.”

“ _Ugh_ to you, too,” Steve grumbled. “What are _you_ doing in town?”

“Hanging out with friends.”

“Oh, you have those?”

“I have more than you do.”

“Boys,” the woman cut in, resting one hand on Steve’s shoulder firmly, “be nice. How are you, Cecil?”

Cecil turned away with a shrug. “Fine, I guess.”

“And how’s your father?”

“Fine.”

Mrs. Carlsberg smiled. “Well, you tell him I said hello, and thank him for helping me with my garden.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cecil glared at Steve again before scurrying off, and Steve’s mother pushed her son toward the door. Marcus had wandered off after Cecil. Carlos made to follow, but Mrs. Carlsberg’s hand on his elbow stopped him. “You’re Carlos, right?”

He turned and nodded, swallowing nervously. He wasn’t going to assume that she and Cecil’s father were sleeping together. He and Cecil shared a bed all the time, and that didn’t mean … well, no, that was a bad example, but --

“Thank you for not mentioning anything to Cecil,” she said quietly. She was stocky and beautiful. Carlos was certain she was biracial. Her hair wasn’t as kinky-curly as his was, but wasn’t as slickly smooth as Cecil’s. Her cheekbones were stunning, and his mother would have killed for them. “He’s a good boy, but he’s … he has some abandonment issues.”

“I know,” Carlos said when it seemed like she was waiting for a reply.

She smiled a bit sadly. “It’s … hard. We appreciate you not saying anything. You’re all out for the night?” It was said casually, but the look on her face said everything. Carlos swallowed sharply and nodded. Her smile broadened. “All right. You boys have fun. Steve!”

“Yeah, Ma?”

He ambled up with a popsicle hanging out of his mouth and she rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll be out tonight. I don’t want you inviting anyone over, ok?”

He shrugged and glanced at Carlos out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, Ma. Sure. Have fun. Don’t get knocked up.”

He got his cheek pinched and jerked back. “Don’t sass me, boy. I love you.”

Steve kissed her cheek after she kissed his forehead. “Love you, too, Ma.” Then she was gone and he took the popsicle out of his mouth and leaned back against the counter. “I’m not the only one who knows they’re banging, right?”

Carlos looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ma and Chief Palmer. They’re fucking. Cecil doesn’t know, but it’s obvious to you, right? Besides, sometimes he comes over on his lunch break and if it’s the weekend, well … the walls are really thin.”

“I don’t know,” Carlos snapped as his cheeks burned.

Steve just rolled his eyes as Marcus and Cecil, followed closely by Earl, walked up. Marcus leaned against the counter. “Hey, Steve. How come you live on the reservation? I thought only Native Americans could live here. You’re a little, uh … African.”

Steve rolled his eyes again. “I _am too_ Native. Mom’s half and I’m a quarter. Earl’s Native, too, before you ask.”

“I’m half.” Earl grinned at Marcus and Carlos’ blank looks. “Mom and Dad are both half Irish or some other European mix. I just got all the white genes.”

“And I’m full,” Cecil interrupted. Earl smiled at him and blushed lightly across the bridge of his nose. “Which makes me better than all of you. Can we go, now?”

“Where are you guys going?”

“The drive-in. Just us three,” he added before Earl could ask to tag along.

“Genetics are weird.” Marcus was still suspicious of Earl and Steve’s claims to Nativeness as he looked between them and Cecil.

“My siblings all look more Native,” Earl sighed. “Everyone thinks I’m adopted. So, Cecil …”

“ _No,_ ” he said, firmly but not harshly. “Just stop, Earl. Please.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as Earl looked at his feet and Cecil edged closer to Carlos, then Steve let out a disgusted sigh and pushed through the group, grabbing Earl’s sleeve and dragging him along. Earl followed without protest, glancing back at Cecil before Steve pushed the door open.

“What did I tell you about wearing that shirt, King?” Elder Josie could be heard snapping.

“It’s Earl, Elder Josie.”

“That’s what I said! That’s a ridiculous shirt, Count.”

“It’s _Earl,_ Elder Josie …”

Then the door shut and Marcus turned to Cecil. “So what’s up with you and McWhitey?”

“Oh, God, learn some _tact,_ ” Carlos groaned as he shoved Marcus.

“What? I’m just curious!”

“It’s none of your business!” The three of them moved toward the register as Carlos and Marcus argued, then back to the car, where Carlos and Cecil both climbed in the back seat. They were halfway to the drive-in when Cecil broke in.

“Look, we dated for a bit, ok? Earl’s my best friend -- well, he was, when we were kids. We were in Boy Scouts together.”

“Why aren’t you still friends?” Carlos glared at Marcus and kicked the back of his seat as Cecil shrugged.

“Mom died. After that … Well, nobody wanted their kids hanging around us.”

Marcus looked at them in the rearview mirror and, wisely, dropped the subject. Cecil leaned a little toward Carlos and sighed, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Carlos put his arm around him and hugged him. It made Cecil take a shaky breath as he hid his face in Carlos’ shoulder. Carlos stroked his long black hair and kissed his forehead before taking his hand and squeezing it. Cecil sniffed and returned the pressure.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be,” Carlos whispered back. “It’s Marcus’ fault.”

“No, I mean --” He cleared his throat. “I mean, for at the house. What I did. I just got so frustrated, I just -- I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Carlos’ only regret was that they hadn’t been alone and Cecil hadn’t been in only lingerie. All he did was shrug, though. “Eh, don’t worry. Marcus and I were being rude. I’m not upset.”

“Well, Dad _is_ pretty hot, I guess. I mean, he’s got all the single women between here and Window Rock after him. A lot of the not-single ones, too. They all think he’s _so brave,_ raising a kid all alone. It’s _so tragic,_ you know, _so romantic._ The handsome widower, the single father. I mean, we rarely have to buy food because Dad gets given so much, so many meals we just have to heat up. Funny, none of the single _moms_ I know get that sort of treatment. Steve and _his_ mom don’t.” Then he shook himself and sat up, leaning forward to talk to Marcus. “What are we seeing?”

Marcus was just getting their tickets. “Some kids’ movie, first, then we’re going to make fun of stupid white people getting eaten by monsters.”

Cecil pulled back as his eyes widened. He looked at Carlos for confirmation before biting his lower lip. “Oh. Uhm. Well. This is awkward. Do we … _have_ to watch the second one? I mean, can we switch movies?”

“You _can,_ but they’ll kick you out if they catch you. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of scary movies.”

Marcus laughed as Cecil didn’t. He looked down and plucked at the hem of his oversized sweater nervously. “... yeah …” he admitted in a tiny voice.

“No way.” Marcus parked the car and turned to stare at him. “ _You?_ Mister ‘Ooooh, I live with cannibal monsters’? Mister ‘Let’s talk about blood and gore over the school announcements’? _Really?_ ”

“ _Yes,_ ” Cecil groaned. He scowled. “ _Yes,_ I’m afraid of scary movies. Living around wendigo doesn’t _stop_ it, it just makes it _worse,_ ok? I can handle regular movies where the killer is human, but I don’t like monster movies. Are you going to stop teasing me, or am I going to find a ride home?”

He had one hand on the door handle and was unbuckling. Carlos took his arm as he, too, glared at Marcus. “Come on, Cecil, don’t go. Marcus, stop being an ass.” Marcus rolled his eyes, popping the hatch so they could all sit in the back. “We’ll figure something out. You don’t have to watch the movie. _We_ don’t really watch them, either. We just make fun of them. Will that make it better?”

Cecil shrugged and settled back next to Carlos. “I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t mean to ruin your movie night.”

Carlos laughed and took Cecil’s hand again, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb across Cecil’s knuckles. “You didn’t,” he murmured, smiling at his friend. Cecil squeezed back and his trembling look slowly turned into a smile.

“Are you two going to stare at each other all night, or are you coming back here?” Marcus asked as he shoved his face right between theirs and rested his arms across the back of the seats.

“Carlos is straight,” was Cecil’s automatic reply as he jerked back, then scrambled over the seat and into the back.

Marcus laughed as Carlos followed, rolling his eyes. “No one believes that, Cecil. _Carlos_ doesn’t believe that. We all just pretend he’s straight so he feels better about fucking guys and can pretend it’s a phase. Let’s not kid ourselves.”

Cecil gave Carlos a slow, measured look as Carlos pulled the blankets over them and didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. He was clearly suspecting that Marcus knew they’d had sex. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Yeah, righ--”

“Shut up,” Carlos finally snapped. He should have known better than to expect Marcus to keep his mouth shut. Even if he didn’t say anything outright, he’d just hint and hint and hint until he’d gotten his point across.

Marcus shrugged and dug out the portable radio he kept in the back of the car. It was all part of their drive-in routine; the back floor of the hatchback was covered in a specially-cut foam pad and there was a mass of blankets for warmth, along with the battery-powered radio with attached speakers for surround-sound, and spare batteries. Carlos sat between his two friends with Cecil on his left side, Marcus’ huge comforter pulled up to his chin. He looked so _young_ as he stared out at the darkening sky, and Carlos wondered how often he got to see an actual sunset. He seemed apprehensive, though not as afraid as he did when at home.

“Are you ok being outside after dark?”

There was silence for a moment, then, “The wendigo don’t leave the reservation. I’ll be fine, thank you.”

“Fuckin’ weirdo,” Marcus whispered.

“And who called me in _tears_ because he thought his house had a jinn?” Carlos asked pointedly.

“Hey! You said you wouldn’t tell!”

“Jinn are real, too,” Cecil said with complete seriousness.

Marcus slapped Carlos’ shoulder. “See?!”

“So wendigo are weird, but jinn aren’t? You’re both ridiculously superstitious.” Still, Carlos fumbled under the blanket until he found Cecil’s hand and squeezed it. Cecil smiled and squeezed back before laying his head on Carlos’ shoulder as Marcus huffed. “Can we at least get through the _previews_ without you two snipping at each other?”

“We’re not five,” Marcus replied testily.

“Then don’t act like it.” Cecil was unusually quiet and Carlos looked down at him, but he was watching the screen, his cheek on Carlos’ shoulder, his hand warm in Carlos’ own. Carlos’ heart might have started beating a little faster as he studied Cecil’s angular features. Or maybe it was the way Cecil’s thumb stroked over his knuckles. Cecil finally glanced up at him and he blinked quickly. “Your roots are showing,” he murmured.

Cecil rolled his eyes up as if he could see the roots of his bangs. “Yeah. I’m going to re-dye them soon.”

Carlos nodded and looked back at the screen. “I bet I can guess all the previews.”

“White guys doing shit?”

Marcus and Carlos both laughed. “Ok, he can stay,” Marcus decided. “What do you do if you hear noises in your attic or basement?”

“Well, seeing as I have neither, I’d probably hide in Dad’s room. But if I _did_ have an attic or a basement, I’d get the hell out of the house.”

Marcus nodded approvingly as Carlos squeezed Cecil’s hand again with a smile. “Good. You’d survive a horror movie. What would you do if there was a zombie attack and one of your group got bitten? Carlos and I don’t agree on the best way to deal with that.”

“Strap bombs to them, put them in an enclosed area with only one or two ways out, let them attract as many zombies as possible, then set the bombs off.” It was said promptly and matter-of-factly. Carlos and Marcus just stared at Cecil, and he blinked at them. “What?”

“That’s _cold,_ man.”

“You’d seriously make someone a human bomb?”

“Well, yeah.” Pushing himself up straighter, Cecil nonetheless managed to slide a leg over and between Carlos’. “They’re already infected, right? No hope of a cure? And we’re on the run from zombies, or specifically on a mission to hunt them down? Someone who’s infected will slow the group down at the very least, and put everyone in danger no matter what. But if you put them in an area that’s mostly closed off, or, I don’t know, like a swimming pool? You just attract zombies there, or push them in if it’s a pool or a ditch or something, and set the bombs off. That would attract _more_ zombies, and you’d pretty much be able to pick them off until you ran out of ammo. Or you just run the other way while they’re distracted.”

“He’s put a lot more thought into this than we have,” Marcus told Carlos.

Carlos nodded. “Yeah. That’s … That’s brutal, Cecil.”

The boy shrugged. “Yeah, but desperate times call for desperate measures. _I’d_ expect _you_ guys to do the same, if I got bit. None of this ‘leave them with a gun and a clip of ammo’ shit. The surviving group members need all the weapons and ammo they can get. Now, if enough time has passed that maybe they’ve found a cure? Sure, try to get them to the hospital. But if it’s a _survival situation,_ then they’ve got to go, and in the most useful way possible. I’d probably lose sleep over it, but the safety of the group is more important. Oh, a bunny!”

He turned back to the screen as Carlos smiled. Marcus caught his attention and made a circle with one hand, bobbing his head over it and sticking his tongue in the side of his cheek as he did so. Then he gestured to Cecil, waggled his eyebrows, and repeated the gesture. It took Carlos a moment to realize what he was encouraging Carlos to do, and when understanding finally dawned he gave his friend a dirty look and shook his head sharply. Marcus just held his hands up and shrugged.

“I can see what you’re doing,” Cecil commented.

“In that case, Carlos, you should totally give Cecil a blowjob. That would be _awesome._ ”

“Please ignore him,” Carlos murmured in Cecil’s ear.

“You know you want him to blow you.”

“I’d rather have a million dollars. Or even a thousand dollars.”

Marcus snorted. “Something to fix up that dump you live in. Why are you so damn poor, anyway? Your dad’s the Chief of Police. He can’t be making _that_ low of a salary.”

Cecil shrugged. “I don’t know. We just have money issues. I know he pays a lot for me to go to school -- I mean, he doesn’t pay full price, but still, it’s not free like public school is. Mom’s funeral was expensive, he’s paying for all of our food and clothes and stuff, lawyer stuff …” He trailed off and then hunched down, clearly having not intended to say the last part. “We’re just poor. I don’t ask about money.”

“Marcus has the bad habit of doing just that,” Carlos said over Marcus’ next words. He elbowed Marcus and slid his arm around Cecil’s waist, pulling him closer. ‘Closer’ turned out to be between his legs with Cecil’s back against his chest, but Carlos only took a shaky breath in as Cecil looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “Come on, Marcus. I know you have manners.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Marcus nudged Carlos. “If you two are going to cuddle, move over and give me some more room.” Carlos and Cecil shifted over, and Marcus stretched out more as he looked at them and kept opening and closing his mouth. He was making an effort to not talk about subjects Carlos didn’t want to talk about, at least. Carlos was sure he was going to get an earful when they were alone, but at the moment, Cecil was laughing at the movie and relaxed and having fun, and Carlos was content to wrap his arms around the young man’s waist and rest their cheeks together with a smile.

An hour and a half later, Cecil was still giggling about the movie while the three of them waited in line to get more snacks and drinks. He’d started pitching his voice higher, like he did when he was Celia, and was swinging he and Carlos’ clasped hands as he held his other hand up to his mouth, gripping the sleeve of his sweater in it. It hid his goatee, and as he’d put his hair in pigtails in the car, he was effectively passing for a girl. Carlos liked that. He twirled Cecil around and hugged him from behind. No one knew Cecil was a boy. If word got back to his family, his parents wouldn’t freak out. Cecil crossed his arms over Carlos’ and rocked side to side, leaving Carlos with the urge to kiss his neck.

He didn’t. Cecil would turn for more kisses, and someone would see his facial hair. Carlos just closed his eyes as Marcus paid, then they all sat at one of the tables outside by the playground to eat before the next movie started. Then Cecil wanted to be pushed on the swings, and it was clear that he was just stalling for time.

Carlos finally pulled him out of the swing. “Come on, Cee. I want to watch the movie.”

His friend giggled and grabbed Carlos’ collar, pressing their bodies together. Carlos started walking backwards toward the car and Cecil followed. “I don’t,” he whispered. “I want to find somewhere nice and dark. Just you and me.” He rubbed the tips of their noses together and his eyes widened when Carlos gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“No, let’s go watch the movie. Come on, I’ll be right there with you.”

“But I don’t want to …” They’d gotten far enough from the snack bar for no one to be paying attention to them. Carlos’ heart was pounding and he squeezed Cecil’s waist. Then he dipped his head and kissed his friend. Cecil let out a small, short squeak before kissing him back. His arms slid around Carlos’ neck and Carlos lifted him just a little, which made Cecil let out a muffled laugh.

“Carlos?”

Father Jaime’s voice in the darkness made Carlos’ heart nearly stop and he dropped Cecil, who stumbled a bit before regaining his balance. Carlos whirled to face the priest. “Oh! Uh, Father Jaime. Hi. Uhm. Uh.” Cecil gripped the back of Carlos’ shirt in both fists and whispered apologies over and over as he rested his forehead against Carlos’ back.

The man sauntered up with a grin and a soda. “Uhm. Uh. Your English is so good. Maybe I can talk as good one day.” He was speaking English, too -- his accent was thick, but understandable. Carlos just looked down and hunched his shoulders. “Is this Maria?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s --” Faither Jaime politely raised his eyebrows and sipped at his soda, doing nothing to hide the widening grin on his face. He’d caught Carlos doing something he shouldn’t have been doing with someone he shouldn’t have been doing it with, and was clearly enjoying himself. “-- Celia,” Carlos finished. “Uh, Maria and I … we aren’t, I mean, we’re not …”

“Ah, you broke up. I’m sorry.” The priest nodded and craned his neck a little. “She’s shy?”

Cecil and Carlos both nodded quickly. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Uhm, we should go to our movie …”

“Right, right. I need to go, too, before Sister Consuela finds me. She gave me a curfew.”

“Oh, God, don’t let her catch you breaking it,” Carlos insisted. “I don’t know how she gets the priests to do what she wants, but dear God, you’re in trouble if she catches you.”

Father Jaime nodded. “So I hear. Well, you two have a good movie.”

“You, too.” He headed off as Carlos pulled Cecil toward the car, cursing under his breath.

“Who was _that?_ I didn’t know they let priests be hot.”

“Shut up,” Carlos groaned. “If my parents find out … He saw us …”

Cecil shrugged. “He thinks I’m a girl. He didn’t really see me, anyway, I don’t think.”

Marcus was already complaining at the screen. He threw some popcorn at them as they got in. “Leave me to haul the food and drinks back while you go off to make out. Jerks. Damn it, of _course_ going to the lake is a bad idea!”

Cecil settled between Carlos’ legs again, this time turning his face into Carlos’ neck and hiding it there. Carlos and Marcus settled into their usual horror movie routine. Cecil laughed once in a while, and Carlos kept a firm grip on him. They’d gotten to a particularly gruesome part when Cecil shifted and lifted his head a bit. He must have caught a glimpse of the screen, because he let out a short shriek just as the demon pulled a woman, screaming, into the darkness. He whipped back around and ended up straddling Carlos’ legs and burying his face in Carlos’ neck, shivering and quite possibly crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Carlos held him tightly and stroked his hair. “It’s okay. Shh, Cecil, it’s ok. Marcus, turn that down.” Marcus turned the radio down, and thankfully didn’t say anything. Carlos held Cecil’s head in his hands, cupping the young man’s ears and pulling him close enough to need to turn his face a bit so their noses didn’t smush against each other. “You’re okay,” he said firmly. “Cecil, you’re _okay._ You’re safe, all right? I’m right here.” He kissed Cecil’s forehead and watched the tears make his eyes shine almost unnaturally bright. “Right here. Okay?”

“O, okay,” Cecil whispered. He still flinched at the sounds of the movie, but relaxed as Carlos kissed him again, gently, on the nose, and then the cheek, and then the lips.

That was the distraction he needed, or at least the first one that worked. They kept kissing, first without tongue and then with, and eventually the movie stopped startling Cecil. His hands had found their way under Carlos’ shirt and around his back, just like Carlos’ hands were splayed against Cecil’s bare skin. They weren’t quite panting, but it was close.

“You’re both cockteases,” Marcus finally muttered.

Carlos reached one hand out to shove his friend, who laughed. Then they _all_ jumped when someone appeared in front of them. “Carlos! Thank God I found you.” Father Jaime was speaking Spanish and looking frantic. Carlos froze. “I need you to hide me. Sister Consuela is here with some of the girls from church.”

Marcus started laughing. “I don’t know what you’re saying, man, but you look like you need a place to hide. You speak English?”

“Of course,” Father Jaime replied. “Oh, you’re not Mexican?”

“No, I’m Indian. Still brown, though. Come on, Carlos, move over.” The smugness in his voice would have been infuriating, in other circumstances.

“Uhm …” Carlos and Cecil shifted to the side, giving Father Jaime enough room to squeeze in between them and Marcus. “Celia’s afraid of scary movies.”

“Of course she is,” Father Jaime laughed. “I think most girls are afraid of scary movies when there’s a handsome young man there to keep them safe.” Cecil was still hiding his face, but he started laughing at that. Father Jaime grinned at them. “I may be a priest, but I’m well aware of how teenagers work.” He slid down until he could rest his head on the back of the seat. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“I don’t think you are,” Marcus replied. “I really don’t think you are.”

That got a short chuckle. “Well. I’m not as sorry as I could be.” He and Marcus shared another laugh before Marcus took up his running commentary again. This time, Carlos joined in, and once Father Jaime had watched for a few minutes, he joined in, as well. It was apparently enough to keep Cecil from noticing the movie, because he relaxed in Carlos’ arms and eventually fell asleep. Once the movie had ended, Father Jaime turned to Carlos with another grin. “So … I’ll see you at confession this week, yes?” He raised his eyebrows at Cecil.

Carlos lowered his own eyes and nodded. “Uh, yeah. Sorry …”

“Don’t be. Well, be sorry. But we all do things we shouldn’t. Thank you for hiding me.” The priest climbed out of the car and leaned down again. “You three have a good night. You have condoms, Carlos?”

Marcus started howling with laughter, and that, combined with Carlos’ startled yell of “ _What?!_ ”, woke Cecil up.

Father Jaime rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, Carlos. Try not to have sex, but if you do, be safe about it. You don’t need any?” He reached into his pocket questioningly, and Carlos managed to stammer out a definite no. “All right. See you on Sunday.”

Then he sauntered off, leaving Marcus in tears of laughter as Cecil sleepily asked what was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing. I'm still trying to work on this, amongst other things.


End file.
